Blood Brothers
by Salty Q
Summary: Supernatural. The Winchesters run into an old friend, who isn't what he seems. Sam has a vision of a kidnapping, but is sidetracked by waking up and finding that Dean and the impala are nowhere to be found. Rated for Winchester whompage and language.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:** As it happens I had ended up splitting the first chapter into 2 chapters. As expected, torturing Dean can sometimes be too much fun to allow it to be brief. Please feel welcome to leave comments, suggestions and especially reviews—a girl can't get enough of them and they speed up the writing process. Enjoy!

**Information:** To get a feel for this fanfic, it is meant to take place some time around the end of season 3. It's set around the time of "Ghostfacers". (For those of you concerned about the timeline.)

**Disclaimer**: I don't own any part of _Supernatural_ or our beautiful boys.

**Chapter 1: Coffee and Guns**

Yawning as quietly as possible and resisting the urge to groan in satisfaction, Dean used the glow of his cell phone display to make his way to the door. He'd been unable to sleep tonight, just like many previous nights, and decided that he'd rather be moving around instead of lying awake in a motel bed.

Deep thoughts dwelled in his mind as he walked towards the front office, hoping that there was someone who could provide him with a 'cup of caffeine', as his father had once called it.

As he entered the office, a pleasant older woman greeted him with a good-natured twinkle in her eye. Dean's eyes floated to her blouse where a nametag read "Doris". He couldn't help but let his mind drift to the fact that he would never be an elderly person because he only had a few months left, then it was curtains for him. He'd never know the feeling of a life fulfilled, never see another Winchester generation grow up, never grow gray and old with someone he'd chosen to love for the rest of his life. Most people his age could expect another 50 years; but not Dean. He'd die and the world would move on without him, wallowing in evil and pain. And people like Doris will go about, obliviously being cheerful because they are unaware of the terror that surrounds them every day, but never touches them directly until it's too late for them to escape it.

Dean shook the thoughts from his head, disappointed with himself for letting his mind get the best of him for the moment, "Good morning, miss," he displayed his most charming grin as he approached the desk.

"I haven't been called 'miss' in decades, darling. You've made an old lady's day," Doris winked and smiled, revealing relatively straight, yet slightly stained teeth, "And I'm not so sure I would call it morning. It's only 3:30—middle of the night to some, you know."

"Awe, but for folks like us, it's never too early to get started," Dean winked right back, enjoying the banter that was distracting him from thoughts too heavy to carry, "I know another one when I see one."

Doris was obviously enjoying herself as well, "Indeed, young man. Sleep may be good for the body, but vigilance is good for piece of mind."

Dean nodded, slightly surprised by her use of the word 'vigilance'. That was the reason he was awake at such an hour and hadn't expected her to read him like that. Remembering what he had come after, Dean looked into her soft hazel eyes, "You wouldn't know where a fella could get a warm cup of coffee at this hour, would you?"

"Well, now, that's a rare commodity to come across at 3:30 in the morning, but you're in luck this time, kiddo," Doris's cheeks rose as she flashed another smile, "I have a secret stash in the next room." Doris glanced over her shoulder playfully, "Don't tell the husband. He gets awful touchy about my caffeine intake—even when I have to cover the graveyard shift."

Dean again felt a sorrow in his heart, which, to his great irritation, was becoming a regular occurrence. He nearly grimaced as he forced himself to nod and smile, trying not to show his regret of knowing he would never have a lifelong partner to worry over him the way that Doris's husband worried over her.

"What's the matter, honey?" Doris read him immediately, a gift she seemed to have.

Dean straightened up quickly, focusing on his smile, that now felt somewhat toothy and fake, "Just need a cup of coffee and I'll be right as rain." _What's wrong with me?_ Dean thought to himself, _I haven't been this distracted in a long time_.

Doris smiled and sidestepped to a cabinet on her left, where she seemingly had a stash of coffee mugs. As she walked back towards the room in which they served continental breakfast, Dean sighed and rubbed his eyes.

Damned, if this night couldn't get any longer. He usually was able to occupy his mind and eventually drift into a lucid dream floating between the worlds of awake and asleep. Although there was never any hope for true rest there, at least it helped pass the time. Tonight was one of the nights he was unable to do so. He was fairly certain that Sam was unaware of his late night/early morning coffee breaks. Sam would only fuss over him if he found out about it, and Sam was already worried enough about Dean as it was.

Doris reappeared wearing a smile and carrying a full, smoking cup of coffee. She winked as she neared Dean and said, "Black, right?"

Impressed, Dean raised an eyebrow, "Right on."

"I know another one when I see one," she smiled pleasantly as she used Dean's words.

"I am much obliged, _miss_," Dean winked as he emphasized the word 'miss' because it had pleased her before.

"Oh, you're too much," Doris waved a hand at him as he turned towards the door, "I don't wanna see you back here before 5:00—two coffees before 5:00 is something even I can't condone."

Dean threw a smirk over his shoulder to see that she was giving him the same sort of look. They both knew if he showed back up in her office before 5:00, there might even be a cup poured and ready for him.

As Dean continued back towards their motel room, he contemplated whether or not to enter the room. He could sit and watch late night T.V. and attempt to ignore the infomercials as he fretted over every small noise, trying not to wake Sam. Or he could pass the time in the impala, playing the radio softly and sipping on coffee for a couple hours until it was safe to go back in, sneak into his bed and pretend he'd been there all night when Sam's alarm went off. He decided on the ladder, but as he reached towards the driver's side door handle, he felt cold steel on the back of his head and instantly concluded it was the barrel of a gun.

"I'm only gonna say this once," a low, scratchy voice broke the silence as Dean's eyes darted around, assessing his options, "Don't. Fucking. Move."

Dean had never been much for following directions given to him by a stranger. Instead of ceasing movement, he splashed the scorching hot coffee over his right shoulder and into the face of his assailant. A stunned yelp of pain erupted from the man as he stumbled backwards several steps, still trying feebly to keep the gun aimed in Dean's general direction.

Without a sound, Dean turned and kicked the man in his searing face, nearly growling with anger at the audacity of the attacker. The man's face displayed nothing but pain and surprise as his gun hand dropped to his side. He fell to the pavement in a heap of dead weight and lay still. As Dean smirked in satisfaction, he mumbled, "You didn't know who you were fuckin' with."

Dean looked at his empty coffee mug, distractedly disappointed that he hadn't got to drink it and wondering vaguely if Doris would believe that he'd spilled it, before coming back to the fact that he had more pressing things to deal with. Who the hell was this guy?

Carefully setting the mug on the pavement next to the stranger, Dean began rifling through the man's pockets and came up with absolutely nothing. There was no ID, cards, or documents in his jacket or jeans pockets that revealed anything about him.

Dean sighed and began to stand, but a distinct pain fired through his left leg as something was slammed into the back of his knee. It buckled and he was instantly forced back down to his knees.

"He was just a distraction," a new, more intimidating and marginally more arrogant voice, informed Dean as the barrel of what felt like a sawed off shotgun touched the back of his head.

"And what are you?" Dean had not turned to see the new attacker, taking the hint from the placement of the gun that he was not allowed to move his head, "The main attraction?"

Another jolt of pain originated in the middle of Dean's back and he had to lower one hand to the pavement to prevent collapsing completely.

"We're gonna get in the car and drive."

"Like hell we are," Dean coughed and spit onto the ground.

This time the blow connected with his head and Dean was kissing pavement before he could stop his body from falling forward.

"If you don't get into the fucking car, we're going to go into room 116 and shoot the holy hell out of your brother."

**Author's Note** Thanks so much for reading! Drop a line if you've got a minute and look forward to chapter 2, as it is on its way later today after a bit of tweaking! : )


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: **As promised, here is chapter 2! For the Sammy lovers out there, stick with me. The part with Dean stretched longer than I had intended, but we'll get back to that adorable younger Winchester soon. I promise.

**Previously:**

"_We're gonna get in the car and drive."_

"_Like hell we are," Dean coughed and spit onto the ground._

_This time the blow connected with his head and Dean was kissing pavement before he could stop his body from falling forward._

"_If you don't get into the fucking car, we're going to go into room 116 and shoot the holy hell out of your brother."_

**Chapter 2: An Old 'Friend'**

Beyond the pain and rage that was already prominent in Dean's mind, fear flooded him for the first time since the stranger had approached him. _Sam_. He didn't know if it was a bluff, but the bastard knew it was the one thing that he could control Dean with. And he knew the room number. The use of the word 'we' also alarmed him. That meant that there were more men with him aside from the blundering idiot he'd burned with the coffee.

When Dean did not reply, the man went on mockingly, "Gun powder and Sammy blood—maybe even 'Sammy bits'—all over the walls, beds and floors. Is that what you want?"

"You son of a bitch," Dean couldn't help but picture the image in his mind and his heart was suddenly pumping doses of fury and rage into his veins. He pressed his hands to the cold cement and began to lift himself up, but a foot was suddenly in the middle of his shoulder blades, pressing him back to the ground.

"What are you getting up to do, Dean?" the voice was low and oily—the kind of voice that felt like it might even have a smell if you got too close.

Dean weighed his odds. He was packing his own iron—he wasn't stupid enough to leave the room without it—but the person above him had been thorough thus far in his plans. Dean could feel satisfaction oozing off of this guy as if it were sap from a maple tree, and although he wanted nothing more than to throw off the asshole's plans, he couldn't risk Sam's life. Whoever this guy was, he had meant what he said. It wasn't part of the plan to kill Sam here and now, but he would if Dean refused to follow directions.

"I've got two guys with me, waiting for orders," the man could tell that Dean was on the cusp of making his decision, "Make a move, they go in. Refuse to do as I say, they go in."

Dean swallowed and closed his eyes. Was this really it? Was this the way he would skip (trudge) his merry (bloody) way down to the throes of an eternity of torture? His end had come earlier than expected, but if that's what it took to protect Sam, that's what he would give.

After another deep breath, Dean willingly forfeited his life for Sam's, "All right. What do you want? Just—don't kill him. Please."

Dean waited for a response, his heart beating so forcefully that he was beginning to wonder if he couldn't hear the man talk because his heartbeat was drowning out the voice. He didn't do it often, and he'd never admit it to another soul, but Dean was praying—praying with everything he had as he waited for the man to speak.

"Good boy," the man was obviously supremely pleased with himself and Dean let out a whoosh of breath in relief, "And what are you getting up to do?" The same question was spoken with amusement and delight this time because the asshole already knew the answer.

Dean's nostrils flared in anger and irritation as he looked towards room 116. He heard the cock of an automatic weapon and knew it must have come from one of the men waiting for orders concerning Sam's fate. Dean had no choice. He could never get to his gun and get off three rounds before one of them got into the room and started tearing his little brother up with bullets.

Dean turned his head back towards the pavement and pressed his forehead onto the coolness of the parking lot, ashamed of what he was about to do, but knowing there was nothing else he could do, "I'm getting up to get into the car."

The man pressed his foot harder as the other men chuckled audibly, "And?"

Dean pressed his lips together and tried not to grunt at the pressure that was being put on his sternum, "And I'm gonna drive wherever we need to go," it would have probably been prudent to end there, but Dean couldn't help himself from adding, "But only if you leave my brother alone you stupid sack of shit."

There was not reaction to the insult, "And your piece?" The voice practically projected laughter, seeing as how everything was going precisely according to plan.

Dean scowled at these words. It was the last hope that he had withheld, thinking that if he got these assholes away from Sam, he could somehow get out of this alive, considering he had a gun.

The man's foot moved downward on Dean's back and pressed down harder than ever, creating a new kind of fiery pain just below his ribcage. Dean nearly choked as he felt as if everything had been thrust upward within his body. "Okay!" His chest, back and ribs were screaming in agony, "Inside jacket pocket—left side."

Dean felt the business end of the sawed off being pressed against the back of his skull once again, "Don't make a fucking move or I swear to God you're brother will be dead in 2.5."

"I know," Dean was speaking without thinking now. He wanted to get as far away from Sam as he could possibly get if it meant that these guys were going with him, "I won't."

A groan of pain escaped Dean's lips despite his efforts to stop it as the man replaced his large foot with his hard knee as he bent down in order to retrieve Dean's gun. The stranger reached into Dean's jacket and rooted around until he found Dean's gun. He pulled the shotgun away from Dean's head, providing Dean with a moment of relief. However, the man immediately placed the gun he had just taken to Dean's temple. Dean had not expected this and he sucked in a surprised and terrified gasp.

The stranger nearly whispered into Dean's ear as he pressed Dean's own gun onto his temple, "I'd love to do this. I'd love to shoot you right in the parking lot with your own piece and leave you for maggots or mailmen—whichever come first."

Dean was utterly lost as to how the conversation had come around to this and why he was still alive, given the man's obvious hatred towards him, "Was I gonna drive you somewhere?" He let a moment hang in the air, aware that it was making the stranger feel more powerful because he was being inquisitive, "Or are we gonna continue _this_ torture? Listening to you gab is as bad as it gets, man."

There was a moment of increased pressure on Dean's back and he fought the urge to cry out. But the instant passed mercifully quickly as the man lifted his foot and grudgingly allowed Dean to stand.

Dean's first concern was Sam. He spun towards the motel room, which did not suit his newly bruised ribs and he could not stifle a grunt of pain. He saw that the two men that had been flanking the stranger were picking up the man he had burned with the coffee. They were half carrying, half dragging him back to a red mazda that was parked two spaces away from the impala.

Dean found himself unable to resist the urge to yell, "And stay away from my brother, you fuckers!" He had a moment of somewhat juvenile self-satisfaction before realizing that he was being a bit audacious, having just had his ass handed to him.

Dean was brought back down to reality by the pain in his ribs and the fact that he had basically surrendered his life to an enemy. He turned to face his attacker and had to prevent himself from gasping at the recognition and suddenly not contemplating the brutal attack that had just taken place.

The word fell out of Dean's mouth in barely more that a whisper as he nearly took a step backwards, "_You_."

"_Me_." The affirmation was full of satisfaction and anticipation, which revealed that he was thoroughly enjoying himself and was positively bursting to reveal something potentially more upsetting than his identity.

Dean had recognized him immediately, yet couldn't imagine why he would be here now. He'd never expected to see him again.

"How'd you—what are you doing here, Riley?" It was barely visible; the child that Riley had been when Dean had first come to know him, but it was there. Dean nearly scoffed in relief, thinking that this must all be some sort of joke—one that had certainly gone too far, "You had me goin'."

"Stop," Riley shook his head, "You don't know me."

Dean cocked his head to the side, but decided not to speak just yet. There was something different about the eyes of his old friend. They were harsh, dark and . . . lifeless. That was the biggest difference. There was no spark of life behind the brown eyes that had once seemed so warm and friendly.

"I'm not who I was, Dean," Riley took a step towards Dean, who instinctively moved back, bumping lightly into the impala, now aware that although he _knew_ the enemy, it was still his enemy, "I'm not _what_ I was. I've come a long way."

Dean raised an eyebrow and did his best to seem unimpressed, "Ah, come on, you only grew about four more inches since I saw you last."

Riley twitched his shoulder and the barrel of the sawed off was suddenly pointed directly at Dean's face. Dean flinched, and would have taken another step back if he wasn't already pressed against the door of the car. He tried to focus on Riley's eyes, instead of the intimidating gun.

"Stop _talking_," Riley seemed nearly beside himself with rage, which made nearly no sense to Dean. However, Dean recognized that it was best to listen for the time being. He nodded in compliance and flicked his eyes worriedly towards room 116.

"Don't worry," Riley had seen the distressed glance, "I couldn't hurt him if I tried. I'm as close as I can get to that room."

Dean raised his eyebrows, puzzled.

Riley was obviously enjoying Dean's confusion, "He'd _feel_ me, Dean. He has powers. He'd feel me—because I'm evil."

Dean stared at the barrel of the sawed off, which was less than a foot away from his face. He wasn't entirely sure what this statement had meant. Saying one is evil and actually qualifying as such are two very different things, but he decided it was a subject best left for another chat with his good buddy, Riley, who was really starting to creep him out.

Still aware that he had agreed not to make a sound, he raised his eyebrows as if asking for permission to talk. He needed to make one thing clear before they left the parking lot. Riley nodded, allowing him to speak, but also seemed anxious to get moving, "What?"

"You promised, Riley," Dean stated simply. He was satisfying his own need to protect Sam in restating what Riley had promised to explore whether or not Riley had meant it, "I don't know what you've become or what you think you're doing, but you promised. Don't hurt him."

Riley's eyebrows drew down as he gave Dean a look that was a strange cross between scowling and smirking, "Do you find me untrustworthy?"

Dean glanced again towards the motel door, then back to Riley, finding it impossible to read the truth within those cold, dead eyes.

Deciding that getting Riley away from Sam was still the best plan, Dean spoke, "Of course not," he flashed his teeth in a charming grin and nodded towards the impala, "Let's go, then." Dean added to the statement in his head, _I've got places to go and lunatics to escape from._

Again, Riley narrowed his eyes at Dean, but he nodded.

They lowered themselves into the car, Dean grimacing at the pain in his ribs as he tried not to let any sound of pain escape his lips, which would probably only satisfy Riley further. He backed out of the parking spot with Riley's gun trained on his midsection and felt a pang of regret as he saw Doris's coffee mug, still sitting about ten feet away from the spot he had just vacated. She'd likely never see it again and it had been Dean's responsibility. Another of Dean's responsibilities was sleeping in that motel room. Was he leaving Sam just as he left the cup: alone, fragile and empty, still simmering from a life that used to fill it's shell?

Dean closed his eyes and swallowed, unable to let his mind drift to a definite ending. Moments earlier he had felt himself give up as he agreed to go with Riley and his cronies even though they were most likely going to kill him. He had consciously decided to give his life for Sam's. And although his life was already forfeit to the powers that be because of his deal, Dean decided he wasn't quite ready yet. He wasn't leaving Sam now. He _wouldn't_.

**Author's Note:** Thanks for sticking with me today, friends! The next chapter will be up soon and we'll finally see what Sam is up to and how he reacts to waking alone in the motel room to find that Dean and the impala are gone. Reviews make me smile! : )


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: **Finally. We get to read about Sam! Enjoy the chapter, friends!

**Chapter 3: Waking Up Alone**

_Light. Light so bright it hurts for a moment. Then his eyes begin to adjust. It's a playground. Laughing and shouting dance into his mind for a moment as at least a dozen children play. A hesitant smile is coaxed from his lips. He catches a glimpse of a sign reading "Wassenberg Park"._

_His vision sways to the side as he lazily turns his head and spots a child on a swing. She is smiling and nearly cackling with glee. A voice calls gently to her, "Abby! It's time to go, sweetie!"_

_Abby's face falls into mild disappointment as she stops aggressively pumping her feet and lets herself swing lower and lower until she is going slow enough to jump from the swing. Another shout of laughter erupts from her as she releases her hold on the swing and lands in the sand with the childlike grace that becomes lost to adults._

_Her mother is waiting for her by a park bench, looking on affectionately. As Abby reaches her, they join hands and walk away from the park, smiling._

_He feels that there is a dark presence near, watching, waiting for a time to strike. He subconsciously knows that the darkness has decided to wait, but he will not wait long. The time is coming._

_Sight abruptly goes entirely black for a moment and he has the surreal feeling of being in a theatre. They turn the lights off, right before the show starts and there is a moment of complete darkness. Just when one's eyes begin to adjust, the screen is alight once again._

_He's suddenly in someone's home. He gazes down a narrow hallway lined with paintings and family photographs. He is somehow thrust forward and the hallway seems to fly by in fast forward. Feeling off balance, he is given a glance out of the window and sees a row of large pine trees lining a driveway, just beyond which there are the beginnings of a forest._

_He rounds a corner and finds himself in a bedroom. A small lump is underneath the covers. As he watches, it stirs and shifts so that her face is now facing him. The moon outside the window is nearly full, casting a dim blue light over her small, delicate features. It is Abby, the girl from the park._

_The soft blue light is suddenly gone as and the vision shifts allowing him to see that an intruder is outside the window. It is only a silhouette against the moon's light so it is nearly impossible to make out any details. The figure is large and thick with shoulder length hair but that is all that can be determined from this point of view._

_He is pulled backwards towards the door within the vision and the man outside the window suddenly lunges forward, shattering the glass as he leaps into the room with inhuman grace and speed._

_Abby screams at the sound of the glass breaking, which seems thunderous compared to the complete silence that had preceded it. The intruder snarls with delight at the young girl's terror as she tries to free herself from the covers in a vain attempt to escape._

_The vision threatens to fog, but he concentrates on staying within it, knowing that it is somehow crucial to do so._

_There is a commotion in the hallway as someone rushes towards the room, "Abby?!" The voice is full of panic and fear—the kind of fear only a parent can know, "Abby, honey?!"_

_The figure glares towards the doorway and the right side of his face becomes visible for a flash of a second. His cheekbones are high and defined, his eyes deep set and his thin lips pulled back from his teeth in an expression of annoyance at the approaching mother. The man lunges forward, literally scooping the screaming girl from the bed, and exits back through the broken window within a mere two seconds._

_The vision spins to the hallway, where Abby's mother has just arrived. She rushes to the bed first, immediately aware that it is empty. Then her eyes settle on the broken window to find the image of a dark figure running faster than any human could ever manage. As she rushes to the window, oblivious to the glass that is cutting her bare feet, the kidnapper reaches the end of the driveway and cuts into the woods that lay just beyond their property._

_As the vision suddenly fades all that lingers in his mind is a mother's grief stricken howl of anguish._

_**O O O O O**_

"NO!" Sam's eyes flew open as the vision and his sleep ended. He was immediately aware of two things. First, his head felt as if there were a hammer working vigorously to break through his skull from the inside out. Secondly, something was missing. Usually when he had a vision or pain of any kind there was something else there. Was it a feeling—an object?

_Dean_. Dean was usually next to him, supporting his weight when he had one of his episodes or when he was too hurt to support himself.

A quick sweep of his eyes determined that Dean was not even in the room. Sam swung his feet off of his own bed and slowly stood. "Gah!" Another flash of agony sliced into his head and he was forced to submit to the pain by plopping back down on the edge of the bed, "Dean?" He called weakly, annoyed by how quiet his voice was.

Out of habit, Sam glanced at the alarm clock to see that it was 3:51 a.m. and as the pain in his head began to subside, panic was quickly replacing it.

"Dean!" Sam was now able to stand, although it made him dizzy. He stumbled around the foot of the bed, bumped into the nightstand and finally reached the door. Panic and fear were beginning to take over his body and he had to take a deep, concentrated breath to partially calm himself as he opened the door, forcing himself to move deliberately and cautiously.

Sam blinked and looked down at himself, suddenly realizing he was wearing only his boxers and a wife beater. He rolled his eyes at himself, which hurt his already splitting head. Annoyed by the fact that he had to go back into the room when all he could think about was the fact that Dean was _not_ in the room, he stumbled back to the bed, snatched up last night's pair of jeans and hopped on each foot in turn as he worked the other into the jeans. He paused at the door, standing one-legged, as his left leg was not into his jeans yet. As he nearly fell into the wall, he became overly frustrated and shoved his leg through the last part of the jeans, yanked them up and zipped them.

As he exited the motel room, his face was met with a cool, fall breeze. He welcomed the fresh air and allowed it to help him clear his mind, but what he saw next terrified him, sending his mind right back into panic mode.

The impala was nowhere in sight. Just as Sam's intuition had told him, Dean wasn't just out of the room; he was gone. Oddly, there was a coffee mug sitting in the middle of a parking space that would have been right next to the spot that the impala had occupied recently. The part of Sam's mind that observed and logged away information noticed that the inside of the cup was still barely steaming, which unsettled him for reasons he was afraid to learn more about.

Forgetting to concentrate on keeping himself calm, Sam broke into a jog as he continued to peer around the parking lot, frantically hoping that Dean had simply moved the car for some 'Dean-like' reason. Maybe the weather on late night T.V. had predicted hail and Dean had decided to find a safe place to park his baby. Or maybe he'd simply needed some random provision and hadn't bothered to awake Sam because of his tendency to think that Sam could always use more sleep than he was getting.

Somehow Sam knew that these were not the reasons Dean was gone. His need to protect Sam would never allow him to leave Sam in the motel room alone had it not been necessary . . .or unless it had been against his will.

_Don't think that!_ Sam inwardly yelled at himself for even considering it although his gut told him he was hitting close to home. He entered the front office, slightly panicked but trying not to startle the clerk.

"Excuse me," Sam tried to control his shaking voice, attempting to be as polite as possible instead of desperately shouting questions at the woman like his panicked mind desired to do, "Have you seen my brother? The guy I checked in with?" His words were rushed and a little high pitched.

The clerk was an elderly woman who now looked quite confused, "Oh, sugar, I thought you were in the car."

Sam blinked and shook his head, "What?"

"That beautiful car you came in, dear," The clerk now seemed a little alarmed, "It passed by here about half an hour ago and there were two men in the front. I'm almost sure of it." She paused and chuckled a little, "Of course you never know with an ol' gal like me."

Sam nearly jumped out of his pants as he felt something vibrating in his pocket. Disoriented, he looked down, realizing that his cell phone was still in his pocket. Still putting in marginal effort not to scare the friendly clerk, he started digging into his pocket as he asked as politely as he could muster, "Do you know which way they went."

"Sure, honey. They turned south onto Cedar Street."

"Where does it go?" Sam asked, rather frantically, "What's on that street?"

"Well," the woman clicked her tongue and looked upwards in thought, "It's mostly residential, but there's a donut shop towards the end of town," she paused thinking again.

Sam flipped open his phone and nearly fainted in relief. There was a text message from Dean that contained only one word: "cemetery".

The words from the clerk drifted back into Sam's ears, "Oh, and a cemetery right before you hit the highway."

Sam was already half way to the door. He shouted a distracted "Thanks!" in the clerk's direction as he grasped the handle of the swing door and flung it open.

_Why didn't I think of the damn phone?_ Sam scolded himself, unsure of why he was so panicked. His shaking fingers found the keys that would lead him to Dean's number in his phonebook. As he dreaded, it went straight to Dean's voicemail. His phone had been shut off.

Sam wasn't sure what to make of the situation. Dean had texted him after leaving, but could just have easily woke Sam up to tell him where he was going. They weren't even on a case! Something was definitely off and as Sam exited the office, the panic took over his practicality and he broke into a dead sprint towards Cedar Street.

_Dammit!_ Sam could feel himself panicking and forced himself to slow slightly and pace himself. He had a good two-mile run ahead of him and he couldn't afford to run himself ragged in the first mile and be of no use by the time he reached the cemetery.

_Ow_, Sam's mind was suddenly distracted by a pain that he couldn't pinpoint immediately. Something hurt and it wasn't his head anymore, for which he was abstractedly grateful. He tilted his head down to look at himself; first the wife beater that was becoming more soaked with sweat as he ran, his slightly baggy jeans flopping over his bare feet in turn—wait. Bare feet. That was it. He hadn't thought to put shoes on before leaving the room and he hadn't returned to the room after leaving the office.

_I'm an idiot_, Sam could hardly believe he'd been so stupid. However, he was already about a quarter mile away from the motel and turning back would cost him about five minutes—five minutes that he wasn't willing to give. He gritted his teeth and ignored his aching bare feet as he continued to run.

The run turned into quite a torturous event for Sam, as he couldn't help imagining the most awful scenarios. His dread controlled his mind by flashing through thousands of visions of Dean, dead or dying, which he had actually seen more times than he could count. He could feel his heart rate increasing and knew it had nothing to do with the fact that he'd already ran nearly a mile.

The fact that his feet were aching more and more each time they slapped the pavement was a secondary worry. The physical pain faded in and out, barely reaching his senses, as the thoughts that tortured him seemed to overflow his mind.

Panic was radiating through him in waves as he came nearer to the cemetery. What if he _did_ find Dean dead? What if he didn't find Dean at all? What if they went right past the cemetery onto the highway and out of Sam's life? He pushed these thoughts away, not allowing himself to explore the many awful outcomes that could be awaiting his arrival to the cemetery.

As he drew nearer to the cemetery, Sam decided that none of these outcomes were acceptable. He heard his dad's voice, clear as crystal, "Failure is not an option. Do your job; do it right and you will never fail." Sam inwardly nodded at this thought. He knew that if anything had happened to Dean, he wouldn't be able to handle it this time, so he decided one thing. He had to reach Dean in time. _Had_ to.

**Author's Note:** Thank you all so much for continuing to read my story. I feel so encouraged to write when I see that my story has been added to someone's alert list and of course when I get reviews. Please feel free to review. I was a little nervous about this chapter, as it is the first time I've written one of Sam's visions in any of my stories, so especially if you have any thoughts about how I've written it or any ideas on what might improve it, do feel free to share. Thanks again for reading! I plan on getting another chapter ready to post by tomorrow or Wednesday! : )


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: **Hey all! Sorry for the mix up there. When I first posted this chapter, it didn't post correctly, so I had to delete it and redo it. Sorry for any confusion! Also sorry this chapter isn't very long. There will be another one up soon!

**Chapter 4: Riley's Secret**

"Why are you doing this, Riley?" Dean asked as he drove down the highway at 50 miles per hour—the speed requested by his not-so-friendly passenger.

"Oh, Deano, there's a few things you don't know about me."

"Don't call me that."

"I'll call you whatever the hell I want," the sawed off suddenly pressed against Dean's already aching ribs.

Dean sucked in a pained breath, "What don't I know about you—aside from the fact that you've become a huge douche bag?"

Riley only chortled mischievously. Dean turned his eyes to his once childhood friend and waited for an explanation. Riley gave it to him by pulling his lips back from his teeth and snarling as fangs suddenly slid out of his gums. His face contorted into an ugly scowl as he revealed that he had become a vampire.

Dean had been anticipating a story—one _hell_ of a story—but this was completely unexpected. He had to tap all of his instinctive driving skills in order to avoid swerving into the ditch, although the ditch was looking slightly more comfortable than the atmosphere inside the car.

"No," Dean moaned, as he feared that his fate was now worse than death. He couldn't help but imagine Riley turning him and being sickly satisfied with making Dean a monster, just like Riley was. Dean closed his eyes for a moment and repeated in a whisper, "No."

"Yep," Riley drew his fangs back in, but continued to grin. Oddly, this was the first time that he resembled the child he had been when Dean had befriended him, "The new and improved 'Riley'."

An overwhelming feeling of sadness hit Dean before he had the chance to see it coming, "Riley," his voice was broken and weak. Dean could hardly stand to hear himself sound like that.

"Don't do that," Riley's face grew hard again, "The person you're thinking of isn't me." To emphasize his point, he again thrust the gun into Dean's side, making Dean gasp in pain, "He was just a weak little boy—this is who I was meant to be."

"You don't have to live like this," Dean's mind was racing, looking for options to this newly discovered and devastating situation. He remembered the vampires in Montana that had trained themselves not to take human lives, "There's options. You can—"

A well-calculated blow connected with Dean's face. It was enough to shut him up, but not enough to make him crash. The flesh above his right eyebrow split open, immediately trickling warm blood down his cheek.

"Jesus!" Dean had swerved slightly and did his best to bring his baby back between the lines without straining her, "You dumbfuck!" He was angry now—much angrier than he'd intended to allow himself to be and it was threatening to cloud his thought process.

He took a deep breath, and immediately grimaced in anguish as he concluded that Riley had broken at least one of his ribs in the parking lot. After the pain subsided slightly, Dean attempted to think his way through his predicament.

_Facts, Dean_, he scolded himself into concentration, _What are the facts? 1. You've been abducted by a guy that was once a childhood friend. 2. He's a vampire. 3. He has a gun. 4. You don't. Yep, I believe you are fucked, Deano._ Dean frowned because he had referred to himself "Deano" in his mind. He had absolutely no way to escape. Until Riley had revealed what he was, Dean was nearly certain he would, at some point, be able to gain control of the sawed off shot gun. Now he knew that even if he was able to wrestle it away, it would be completely useless.

Dean tried to ignore the aching that overtaken his ribs and back. He glanced at Riley again as the horror of his future—or lack there of—made it impossible to think of anything else, "Are you gonna—make me—" Dean felt unable to complete the question, so he sighed and tried to start over. His stubborn need to know any detail available won over his desire to remain ignorant, "Are you gonna turn me?" He heard the shutter in his voice and was slightly ashamed, but somehow proud for being able to voice the question.

Riley glanced into Dean's eyes for a moment and seemed taken aback. "Turn you," the words were not a statement or a question, but merely spoken in a monotone voice, giving nothing away.

Dean opened his mouth, thinking he might attempt to get an answer to a question he was almost too afraid to ask, but Riley spoke suddenly, "On the right. We're here. Pull in."

"To the cemetery?" Dean wrinkled his nose. Having spent more time than was necessary in cemeteries, he could hardly believe that he was being forced into one, "How original. Need a new coffin for the den?"

Riley ignored the last part of the statement as he nodded, "Pull up into that shaded area."

Dean pulled into the bone yard and headed towards the section that Riley had indicated. He maneuvered the impala into position, but was unwilling to cut the engine. It was possible that this would be the last time he ever heard her purr, and he spent a moment, reveling in it as Riley barked an unheard order.

Dean's head suddenly snapped to the side as a forceful blow connected just above his temple. He felt his mouth go slack and tried to say one word. A word that would have represented all he had ever asked of his existence, "Why?" He was vaguely aware that he was now being pulled out of the car through the passenger side door and extremely annoyed that his physical capabilities seemed only to extend to flinging his hands out aimlessly, reaching for anything that might stop his exit from the car.

Fighting to stay conscious, he felt his body being slammed onto the ground, his hands being yanked behind his back and bound mercilessly with harsh rope. Finding the urge to fight nearly unbearable because he was incapable of actually doing so, he spit on a beetle as it passed by his face, somehow satisfied by the feeling that he had influenced something in a negative way.

Riley gripped Dean's bicep and yanked him to his feet. Dean stumbled as he was being shoved forward, still not fully conscious. Thankfully, Riley didn't take him far before throwing him viciously to the ground. Dean was losing his fight with the darkness and as his head slammed into the ground, it shoved him over the edge. His world was lost in a pool of dizziness and unconsciousness as Dean drifted away.

_**O O O O O**_

Finally, the cemetery gates became visible. Sam trotted to a stop and spent a moment breathing deeply to regain his composure. Squinting, he could make out the outline of the impala in the dark shadows of the trees. Hope surfaced within him, pushing some of the panic away. Although he didn't see any people, Sam felt better about the impala being there.

Sam crossed the threshold of the cemetery gates and something suddenly gripped his heart. It was as if every instinct in his body was telling him to turn around, sprint the two miles back to the motel, grab his things and get as far away from here as possible. He blinked and shook his head. The effect was more than a mental instinct—it was affecting him physically—and, for a moment, his legs refused to obey orders.

_Stop!_ His mind cried out in panic.

_I can't—Dean's in there!_ Sam was surprised and confused at the fact that he was now having a conversation—with himself. _Let go!_

He took another step and felt it again, although it wasn't as strong. Something inside him wanted him to flee. He felt a powerful urge to turn and run somewhere—anywhere that wasn't here.

_No! I have to help Dean!_ He felt as if he were shouting at himself within his own mind, which was one of the most bizarre things he'd ever experienced.

There was an inward physical struggle for several seconds as Sam tried to move forward and was foiled by the part of him that was telling him to run. After a long moment, the part of him that refused to go anywhere without Dean won, and he was finally able to move forward. The other feeling faded, but did not disappear. It clung to his thoughts and heart, urging him to turn back although it was not nearly strong enough to influence him physically anymore.

Shaking his head to try and rid himself of the strange feeling, Sam furrowed his brow, confused and disturbed by what had just happened. He forced himself to push it away from his mind for the time being and help his brother. He'd worry about that little freak show he'd just performed later.

He steeled himself and took two more forcibly calm breaths before crouching low and stealthily making his way towards the impala through the shadows.

_All right, Dean. Here I come, brother_.

**Author's Note:** Hope you are enjoying where this is headed. Any comments, suggestions or ideas are always welcome! Thanks for reading!


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note:** Good day, fellow _Supernatural_ fans! Here's the next chapter. Drop a line and let me know what you think!

**Previously:**

_Sam steeled himself and took two more forcibly calm breaths before crouching low and stealthily making his way towards the impala through the shadows._

_All right, Dean. Here I come, brother. _

**Chapter 5: Waiting Games**

Sam was barely able to see his way around the cemetery, let alone the shadows. Although the feeling of foreboding continued to haunt him in a way that already made him feel regretful about entering the cemetery, he continued inward, towards the impala.

Taking a moment to look down at himself, Sam suddenly felt foolish. The only provision that he had in his possession was his cell phone and there was no one he could call for backup that would be able to reach them in time to make an immediate difference. Sam had also become acutely aware that he hadn't even bothered to arm himself as he had left the motel. Unbelieving of his own recklessness, Sam continued to slink towards the impala, staying close to the darkest parts of the cemetery and doing his best not to trip and give himself away. Thanks to his stupidity and panic, his only weapon at the moment was the element of surprise.

Deciding to change this fact, at least slightly, Sam peered around in the darkness for any kind of weapon. The best he could come up with was a rotting branch. He sighed and carried it towards the car, trying to make himself believe that wielding a half-rotted piece of wood was going to give him an advantage.

As he approached the rear bumper of the impala, he heard a voice fade into his range of hearing, "You have no idea what this is like, Dean." He heard someone strike a match and suck in a satisfied breath, most likely lighting a cigarette, "I'm stronger than you could ever imagine."

"You still act like a ten year old pipsqueak," Dean answered stubbornly.

Hearing Dean's voice sent an intense rush of relief through Sam's body, helping him keep the strange feeling of dread at bay. He had to resist the urge to sprint around the car, find Dean, and hug him—or smack him for leaving the motel room without telling him—he wasn't sure which he'd have done and he would never know since he could do neither at the moment.

Sam next heard a _thud_, which sounded suspiciously like something colliding with a part of the human body. His suspicions were proven correct almost instantly as he heard Dean grunt and cough in pain.

"When did you get to be such a smart ass?" the voice asked, irritated, yet slightly amused, "I didn't expect you to be so . . . aggravating."

Sam's ears perked up at these words. The man was someone from the past—they knew each other. _This is getting interesting_.

Dean coughed again, seemingly unable to respond for a moment, then Sam barely heard him say, "What can I say? I grew up nicely." Sam could imagine the sideways smirk Dean was displaying—the one that could drive any enemy nuts just by looking at it.

The assailant, however, seemed unaffected by the statement. Sam decided to get a better view of the predicament and nearly crawled around the back of the impala. He knelt near the back left bumper and peered over the trunk.

Dean was on his knees with his hands bound behind him, about three feet from the man. His right eyebrow had been split open and there was a line of blood curling around his jaw line, now trickling slowly down his neck. He also seemed to be breathing rather shallow, but other than that, he seemed all right.

As Sam focused his attention back to the man leaning against the impala, he involuntarily gasped. Until now, all thoughts of his vision had been struck from his mind, as he had worried about nothing except for Dean since he'd realized Dean was missing. The man was the same man from his vision—tall and broad shouldered, with high cheekbones and beady eyes—unforgiving eyes. Sam blinked and ducked back down, thinking out his next move. Whoever he was, Sam had been able to tell in his vision that he was not human.

Sam continued to observe for a moment, forcing himself not to rush into any action that would get Dean and himself killed. After being reminded of his vision, he also found it imperative to find out any information that the man might be foolish enough to divulge.

"I shouldn't have done that," the man raised the gun, using it to motion towards Dean's bleeding eyebrow.

Dean scoffed and shook his head, "What's the matter, Riley? Are we growing back a conscience now?"

Riley smirked as he strolled until he was standing directly in front of Dean and lowered himself down to one knee so that they were face to face. It was obvious that Dean wanted to lean back, away from Riley, but he was too proud and stubborn to do so. Riley continued, "No," he again drew his eyebrows low as he grinned, displaying a row of vampire fangs, "It's making me hungry."

Dean couldn't help but fear Riley now. There was nothing of his old friend in the beast's eyes and if there was one fate he rated lower than spending an eternity in hell, it was to be turned into one of the monsters that he hunted. He remained silent, deciding that being a complete smart ass may not be the best way to survive the immediate situation and get back to Sam.

Unknowingly to Dean, Sam was only ten feet away and had stiffened at Riley's words, as it could only mean one thing. Riley was a vampire. More than ever, Sam felt compelled to rush out and stop the proceedings but was fully aware that doing so in haste would result in death for both brothers. Instead he decided that the best game to invest in was the waiting game.

Finally, after only a moment or two, but what seemed like ages to Dean, Riley stood and walked back towards the impala, leaning against her as he continued to smoke.

When Dean could no longer stand the restlessness and silence, he spoke, "What are we doin' here?"

"Waiting," Riley answered almost instantly without thinking, as he took one last drag and finished off his cigarette, "For Sam."

Dean frowned at this, "Why would he come here?"

"Because he won't know what else to do," Riley answered, "I sent a well-timed text. When it wakes him up and he realizes you're not there, he'll panic. He'll try to call, but your phone is," Riley paused unnecessarily, raising his open palm, before closing it symbolically and finishing the sentence, "Off."

Dean's nostrils flared in rage, "If you—"

Riley instantly interrupted, "It'll throw off his game. With you two idiots, that's the only thing that can throw off your game—each other. Don't you worry. He'll come a runnin'."

Sam frowned, disturbed that Riley had described basically everything that Sam had done upon discovering that Dean was gone. The only detail that wasn't precise was the fact that Sam had already been awake and panicked by the time he got the text, which was probably much more upsetting than being awoken by it.

Dean was still confused, "Why take me when you wanted Sam all along?"

"Oh, Deano," Riley shook his head and narrowed his eyes as if he were a teacher, trying to tell a child _why_ two plus two equals four, "Don't you pay attention? I couldn't approach him at the motel. He can _feel_ me. His powers are growing, and even though he's not entirely sure what it means, he can sense when he is near evil—especially me."

Dean blinked and looked at the ground. His shoulders were beginning to ache from having his wrists bound together. He had been working to free his hands from the rope the entire time they'd been at the cemetery. However, Riley had tied the knots ruthlessly tight, making any amount of squirming ineffective.

"I couldn't take the chance that he would sense me so early in the game. I had to make him come within our reach," Riley smiled coyly as he explained, "And the only way to do that was to make you the bait. If he has developed the sense—as we believe he has—almost nothing would make him betray that sense. You were the only option in getting him to play our game."

Dean was practically snarling as he looked into Riley's face and said one word, "Bait."

Riley's smile grew wider as raised his eyebrows affirmatively and nodded his head.

Dean hollered indistinctly as he propelled his torso weight slightly backwards and straightened his legs as quickly as his knees would allow. Riley was caught off guard and unable to bring the gun up in time to threaten or stop Dean. Dean's body collided ungracefully with Riley's before slamming into the impala. A split second later they were both on the ground with only one difference between the two of them. Dean's hands were bound behind his back, rendering him practically useless.

Sam once again had to fight the urge to join the fray. Riley wouldn't kill Dean. He had revealed the plan and he needed Dean in order to trap Sam. If Sam rushed out and tried to take on an armed vampire with a measly branch, he'd probably only manage to get Dean killed. Instead of rushing out to his brother's aid, as he desired to, he gripped the bumper with his right hand, making his knuckles almost instantly white and hardly noticing the pain that it caused.

An inhuman growl escaped Riley as he knelt down, straddling Dean's face down figure. Dean's head was turned towards Sam, allowing Sam a good look at his features. He was furious, but his hazel eyes also revealed that he was terrified nearly out of his mind. Sam had never seen that look on his brother's face and it frightened him to the core. He pulled back and looked away, feeling that he was somehow violating Dean's privacy. Dean would never had displayed such fear in front of his little brother.

Riley pressed the barrel of the shotgun once again to Dean's temple as Dean struggled vainly underneath Riley's ridiculous advantage and vampire strength.

Riley seemed to calm himself as the moment drew on, willing himself not to blow the troublesome Winchester away. After a long moment, in which Dean's eyes were clenched shut, expecting to die any second, Riley spoke, "Do you remember?" As strange as it was, his voice seemed newly innocent and somehow reminiscent.

Dean swallowed, perplexed by Riley's change in demeanor, "Remember?"

"That summer."

Dean shifted uncomfortably, clearly indicating that he remembered as he tried not to think about the gun pressed to his head.

"What a waste," Riley scoffed cruelly.

Sam decided the waiting game was over and dared to raise his head enough to observe from over the trunk of the car as he yelled in the most authoritative and demanding voice he could muster, "Don't move!"

Riley's face showed a brief frame of alarm before glancing around skeptically, "Sam? Is that you, buddy?"

Sam continued to act as if he were in charge, "I have the colt pointed at your head, asshole! One move and I'll blow you outta this world!"

Dean barely dared to blink but was obviously relieved to hear Sam's voice. In fact, he thought the bluff would be more influential if he pitched in, "You heard him, jackass, step off!"

Then something happened that made Sam's skin absolutely crawl with unnerving energy. All the negativity that he'd felt before he entered the gate seemed to seep through him, making him feel somehow heavier. He heard himself mutter quietly, "We have to go."

At first Sam thought it was a slight breeze, ruffling the back of his head and making his hair twitch, but almost immediately felt it; hard steel. The feeling was followed by a soft _click_ as someone thumbed back the hammer, cocking the gun that was now pressed against the back of his skull.

"Do exactly as I say hippy boy," the voice of a cliché redneck instructed him, "Toss that down and get your hands up."

**Author's Note:** As always, thank you so much for reading! Hopefully I will have the next chapter up some time tomorrow. If you think finding out Riley was a vampire was a surprise, wait until you find out what Dean knows about him! That's coming up in the next chapter! Comments are appreciated! : )


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note:** Sam and Dean are in quite a predicament! Oh, us writers can't help writing them into corners. Enjoy!

**Previously:**

__

At first Sam thought it was a slight breeze, ruffling the back of his head and making his hair twitch, but almost immediately felt it; hard steel. The feeling was followed by a soft _click_ as someone thumbed back the hammer, cocking the gun that was now pressed against the back of his skull.

"_Do exactly as I say hippy boy," the voice of a cliché redneck instructed him, "Drop it and get your hands up."_

**Chapter 6: Chosen**

Sam complied instantly, aware that he was in no position to negotiate and even a little relieved on some level that he would be out in the open with Dean.

"Bring him over here, Ben," Riley instructed the newcomer as he finally withdrew the gun from Dean's head and stood to his full height.

As Sam was forced towards Riley, he was troubled to find that Riley was as tall as he was. Sam wasn't used to that.

Riley clicked his tongue and surveyed Sam in a way that made Sam feel like a buffet table, "Sammy," Riley smiled unpleasantly as he continued to assess Sam, "You've sure grown. When did you pass the midget up?" Riley flicked his head towards Dean, who had struggled back into a kneeling position, "When you were twelve years old?"

Sam glanced down at Dean and gave him an apologetic look, _Sorry, Dean. Some rescue, huh?_

Dean coughed briefly, which clearly caused him a great amount of pain. Sam started towards him, but Ben grabbed a handful of his hair and yanked him back, placing his handgun just below Sam's left ear. Sam gasped in surprise and pain.

"Don't fucking move," Ben growled as he pulled Sam's head back a little farther with the handful of hair.

"Let him go, you asshole," Dean was absolutely livid and he seemed unable to look away from the gun that was being pushed so hard onto Sam's neck that there was going to be an ugly bruise there in the next day or two . . . if they managed to live that long.

Riley raised the sawed off shot gun and pointed it at Sam's chest, "Tie him up, Ben, I got him covered."

The pressure on Sam's neck increased for a moment, as if Ben were sending Sam some final message, before he withdrew it and jerked Sam's arms down behind him. After this, Sam was able to assume that Ben was also a vampire because of his strength.

After Sam's hands were bound tightly behind his back, he was thrown into the back seat of the impala with so much force that his head slammed into the other side of the car. A grunted "Fuck!" flew from his mouth as he tried to straighten himself up in the seat.

When Sam was able to position himself to see out of the door, he saw that Ben had approached Dean and was shoving him towards the car as well.

"You don't want him," Sam called out towards Riley, "This is about me—I know it. Let him go."

"Shut up, Sam," Dean growled out of the side of his mouth.

Riley opened the driver's side door and folded himself into the seat. He looked a bit ridiculous at first because the seat was positioned to accommodate Dean's height. Riley hastily adjusted the seat as Dean was thrown into the back with Sam.

"It's not about him," Sam continued, aware that he was being ignored by Riley, "She's after me—he's not even a threat—his time's up in a couple months."

Sam glanced at Dean apologetically for having brought it up, but he was only doing it to try to get them to leave Dean there.

Dean gave Sam a look that bordered rage. Sam swallowed, inexplicably frightened by such animosity from Dean.

Seeing the fear in Sam's eyes was difficult for Dean, but he needed Sam to stop this line of conversation immediately. Dean needed to go. There was no way he was leaving Sam with Riley and his gang alone—Sam didn't know the most important thing about this guy, "Stop it, Sam—I'm going."

Even Riley turned slightly in the driver's seat, obviously amused by the exchange behind him, "Wow, boys," Riley ignited the engine and the impala sparked to life, "Y'all should be on Maury."

As Riley threw the car into reverse something seemed to occur to him. He kept his foot on the brake, keeping the car stationary for some reason. Then he smirked over his shoulder, seemingly enjoying some sort of game, "Deano."

Dean's gaze flew towards Riley as he attempted to control the panic rising within his body, threatening to take control of his mind, "Don't call me that."

Riley chuckled, as if anything Dean had said was irrelevant, "Your call, bud."

"My call?" Dean's eyes softened as he looked towards Sam.

Riley shifted in his seat, seemingly finding a comfortable position and getting a feel for the car, yet his foot remained on the brake, "Yeah," Riley's eyes burrowed into the rear view mirror, daring Dean to take the exit, "My orders didn't concern you—only that you would be the best way to get to Sam. The only reason you're not dead is because I've got a soft spot for watching you suffer. And who knows? There might be a little bonus in it for me if I bring you both back. But I'm gonna let you decide, Dean. You can leave. Or you can come along. It's really quit simple."

Dean spent a flash of a second glancing towards Sam, then answered, nearly automatically, "I'm going."

At this, Sam shifted so that he was closer to Riley and began talking rapidly, "No, don't listen to him. You don't need him—leave him here—it's—"

Sam ceased talking as Riley had spun towards him, shot gun first. It nearly collided with the right side of Sam's head, but his reflexes were just quick enough to allow him to fling himself backwards as Riley leveled the barrel at his face, "Shut up, pretty boy. He made his decision."

Sam swallowed and pulled his eyes away from the gun long enough to give Dean a glance and prayed for him to change his mind, although he wasn't sure that would be allowed anyway. He hadn't even told Dean of his vision yet. Someone had to stop this lunatic from kidnapping the little girl, Abby. However, as his eyes drifted back to Riley, he considered that this might be the best way to stop him. If they were with him, they would at least know where he was. They'd been in worse jams than this—right?

After a torturously long staring competition with the business end of Riley's sawed off, Riley pulled it away and Sam realized he'd been holding his breath. As he let it out slowly, he heard Dean do the same.

Riley finally allowed the car to roll backwards and they left the cemetery, following Ben, who was driving the red mazda.

"One rule, fellas," Riley smirked again as he pulled out a pair of sunglasses and placed them on his face, despite the fact that it was pitch black outside the car, "No talking."

**_O O O O O_**

After a very silent forty-minute drive, in which Sam and Dean shared several "What the hell are we gonna do?" looks, they pulled up to an old two-story building that had the look of an abandoned theatre. The sky was beginning to grow lighter in the east, signifying the coming of morning.

As Sam peered towards the east, a disturbing thought crossed his mind. _Will I ever see the sun again? If I'd known yesterday was the last time I'd see it, I'd have watched it set._

His thoughts were interrupted as Ben appeared in the window and opened the door. He grabbed Sam by the hair again, which seemed to be his favorite way to control the younger Winchester's body, and yanked Sam forward. Sam struggled to get one foot out of the car so he wouldn't fall face first onto the cement. He stumbled into the door and the fact that Ben held his gun at the ready did not escape Sam's attention.

Sam heard Dean being pulled from the other side of the car by Riley. They were hustled towards the door as Sam once again dejectedly wished that the sun had already risen so he could see it one more time, but before he knew it, he had been shoved into the building, away from the outside world.

Dean was unhappy to see three more men just inside the doors, standing guard. They seemed pleased with the fact that the Winchester brothers were there, which made Dean's skin crawl even more. He could hardly believe he was being taken into the heart of a vampire nest.

Sam suddenly stopped walking. His body was again being physically affected by the overwhelming urge to simply turn and attempt to run away, although he knew that was ridiculous. There's no way he could possibly escape before one of the vampires caught him. Ben, who was walking directly behind Sam, nearly bumped into him, before growling an aggravated, "Move it!" and shoving Sam forward with so much force that Sam had to lay his shoulder into the wall to prevent hitting it face first.

"Hey—" Dean started, but was immediately interrupted by Riley.

"Just keep moving, assholes."

After being marched up to the very front of what actually did turn out to be an old theatre, Sam and Dean were tied to two chairs in the front row by their arms, with one empty seat between them. Ben had glared at Sam the entire time he spent working on his binds and gave Sam a particularly nasty look as he pulled the last bit of the rope tight on Sam's right arm, making Sam wince in pain.

Riley surveyed them for a moment, seemingly satisfied with their inability to escape, then started to walk away.

Dean gaped for a moment, "Wait—what the hell are you doing?" He wasn't sure what he preferred; getting worked over by Riley, or being forced to wait in a large dim room, becoming more and more panicked about what was going to happen to him and his younger brother.

Surprisingly, Riley stopped and turned back slightly, smiling because he knew exactly what Dean was thinking, "Waiting for her. Shouldn't be long. Don't worry, the fun will start soon."

Sam gulped as Riley's satisfied smirk slid into a toothy smile, although he didn't reveal his fangs this time, to which Sam was absentmindedly grateful.

"Lilith," Sam nearly whispered.

Without another word, Riley strutted away and in less than ten seconds, he was out of the room.

"Dean, listen to me," Sam needed to tell Dean about the vision so they could somehow stop Riley from abducting the little girl. He made an odd attempt to shift in his chair and turn towards his left, but was foiled by the ropes binding him securely to the chair. He sighed and settled for letting his body remain facing the front and turning his head to the left.

To Sam's surprise, the look on Dean's face was just as urgent, "No, man, you gotta listen—we have to get out of here—_NOW_."

"I know," Sam said as he thought, _Duh_. "I had a vision, Dean."

Dean was visibly surprised as he blinked and raised his eyebrows, "Alright, make it quick. What happened?"

Sam quickly relayed the vision, leaving out anything unnecessary, "It was Riley, man. He's gonna kidnap a little girl. The only information I got was a sign at a park that said Wassenberg Park. The house is near a forest, but we gotta get outta here and get to the park before he does, and stop it before it starts. He could be headed there right now," Sam's voice was growing nearly hysterical at the thought of allowing the young girl to be kidnapped by a vampire.

Dean took in the information for a moment, a look of concentration taking over his features as his gaze dropped away from Sam's face. As his eyes studied the floor, he suddenly looked at Sam's feet, "Dude, you're not wearin' any shoes."

"What?" Sam was taken aback for a moment, before he realized that Dean had just now realized he'd been shoeless. An exasperated sigh preceded his next words, "Focus, man."

Dean's eyes snapped back up to Sam's face and he nodded, agreeing that Sam's shoeless plight was not the most important thing on the table.

"Sammy, listen, I know where Wassenberg Park is—we went there once. You were kinda young, so I don't know if you'd remember, but we went there on one of dad's leads about mom's death. We spent four months there when I was about thirteen, but you were usually just in the motel because you weren't really allowed to go with us and you weren't interested anyway," at the last part, Sam caught a note of disapproval in Dean's voice because he hadn't been real interested in hunting evil at the ripe old age of nine.

Ignoring the tone in Dean's voice, Sam glanced back towards the doors, "Great, at least we already know where it is—we gotta get there." Sam looked around for any way of escape as he pulled on his binds, causing more pain in his wrists.

"Sam, dammit, listen to me," Dean's voice was urgent enough to make Sam turn his head back and pay attention, "I know why you had a vision about him—about Riley."

Sam waited, but Dean seemed unwilling to reveal the next bit of information. After a long moment, Sam raised his eyebrows, "Why?"

"He's . . . he's like you," Dean finally finished, watching Sam's face closely.

"What? He's not like me! I—" Sam suddenly understood what Dean had meant. John had followed a lead that had led him to Riley. Riley's mom must have died the same way that Mary had died. He wasn't just evil; he wasn't just a vampire; he was one of them.

After staring at the floor in disbelief for several seconds, Sam brought his eyes back to Dean and spoke in nearly a whisper, "He was chosen—like me."

**Author's Note:** Thanks for reading, fellow Saltgunners! Does the fact that Riley is chosen make him a 'Super' vampire? I hope to have the next chapter up sometime tomorrow, so to find out if/when/how the brothers escape this mess, tune in then! As always, comments are greatly appreciated. : )


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note:** This is the last chapter for a couple days. Enjoy!

**Previously:**

"_He's . . . he's like you," Dean finally finished, watching Sam's face closely._

"_What? He's not like me! I—" Sam suddenly understood what Dean had meant. John had followed a lead that had led him to Riley. Riley's mom must have died the same way that Mary had died. He wasn't just evil; he wasn't just a vampire; he was one of them._

_After staring at the floor in disbelief for several seconds, Sam brought his eyes back to Dean and spoke in nearly a whisper, "He was chosen—like me."_

**Chapter 7: Escape**

Sam's mouth suddenly felt dry; his body empty, "What—" he found himself having to pause and swallow, terrified by the possibilities this new information presented, "What does that mean?"

"I dunno, man," Dean glanced over his shoulder, paranoid about one of the vampires coming in or hearing their conversation, "When I knew him, he was just a ten year old kid who's mom died—just like our mom. Dad was able to put some pieces together there, so we stayed for a while."

"I remember that motel," Sam said distractedly, and before he had meant to say anything else, he had already finished his thought out loud, "It had a playground."

Dean looked towards Sam, suddenly feeling selfish and guilty. Sam had spent four months trying to occupy his time in a trashy motel room while Dean had been out with John and Riley, doing a bit of research when it needed done, but mostly having the time of his life with Riley. He remembered it as one of the best summers of his childhood, while Sam probably remembered it as one of the worst.

Dean forced himself to continue, leaving these thoughts for later, "When we were tracking down the other chosen kids like you, there were no records on him anywhere—I had Ash check. I thought he might have developed an ability and recognized that he needed to drop off the radar for a while. We talked about things; he knew about the supernatural world," Dean paused, glancing at Sam's eyes, but unable to hold the gaze, "He was—" Dean's voice broke, and he clenched his mouth shut for a moment, reluctant to finish the sentence, "He was my friend, man."

Sam recognized the pain in Dean's eyes and quickly moved the conversation forward in an attempt to distract Dean from dwelling in his regret, "Okay, I had a vision about him because he's one of us. And he's a vampire—will he be more powerful than a vampire? Because he was chosen?" Sam's mind spun with the potential of the situation as he turned his head to look at Dean in question, "Jesus, man."

"I know," Dean nodded and avoided Sam's eyes, not wanting to give away just how regretful he felt for the loss of his childhood friend, "That's why I had to come, Sam. There was no way I was gonna leave you with him—I had to tell you—couldn't have you fightin' blind."

Sam gave Dean what was supposed to be a scowl, but it turned into a smile of thanks. Truth is, he'd have been terrified if Dean wouldn't have been tied down right next to him and felt a twinge of selfishness because of this fact.

"Alright, man, back to business," Dean sighed and bent forward, looking at his feet, "I got a switchblade."

Sam's heart leapt with hope, "Where?"

"In my shoe—right behind my ankle bone. They didn't check there."

"How are you gonna get it out?" Sam knew that the physical dynamics would not allow Dean to access that part of his anatomy.

Dean bit his lip for a second before trying to do so. Despite the situation, Sam had to resist the urge to laugh as Dean twisted his knee back and forth but was unable to get the right side of his right foot anywhere near his hands. He periodically gasped in pain as the movement caused nearly unbearable pain in the vicinity of his ribs.

"Motherfucker!" Dean was nearly working up a sweat before he gave up, "Never thought I'd say it, but yoga may be a good thing."

Sam's mind was already working in overdrive to obtain the valuable knife. Dean wouldn't be able to lift his leg high enough to the right in order to allow Sam to access the knife either. But he could touch Dean's foot with his own . . .

"I'm not wearing shoes!" Sam suddenly said excitedly.

Dean cleared his throat, blinked and looked at Sam as if he were about to lecture him, "I've already mentioned that fact."

Sam rolled his eyes, but was undeterred; "Get your leg over here, dipshit! I can grab the knife with my _toes_!"

"Holy shit," Dean was nearly flabbergasted by this new development.

Sam allowed himself to smile even though their situation was still rather dire, "Get your foot over here, man."

Dean also smiled and thrust his foot as far as he could to his right. Sam used his own toes to lift up the cusp of Dean's jeans. To his surprise, Dean was wearing tube socks.

"Dude," Sam gave Dean a questioning look.

"Shuddup," Dean glared at Sam for a moment, before letting his smile resurface, "Why do you think they didn't find it?"

Sam hooked his big toe into the top of Dean's sock and pulled it down as far as it would go. He was inwardly thankful that he had forgotten to shoe himself before leaving the motel. It was possible that they would have came about to the same plan, despite the fact that he would have been wearing shoes—Sam could have stripped his feet of shoes and socks without using his hands—but it would not have been nearly as obvious had he been wearing shoes.

Dean shifted uncomfortably as the top part of the knife became visible.

Sam wedged the switchblade between his big and second toe and carefully pulled it upward and outward. Sam scoffed a bit of laughter, "Yes!"

Dean looked at the knife within Sam's toes and then to Sam's face, "Wow, good job, Fonda."

Sam blinked and creased his brow, before deciding that whatever reference Dean had just accessed could wait until later, "Okay, I think I can bend my knee enough to get it to your right hand."

"Alright," Dean licked his lips and strained his hand forward, although it didn't move more than a centimeter or two.

Sam shifted his butt to the left and his shoulders to the right, bending his left leg and thrusting it towards Dean. His foot connected with something fairly solid.

"Damn!" Dean winced in pain as Sam's foot slammed into his knee.

"Sorry!" Sam said straining to get his foot farther up and back, "How close am I?"

"'Bout a foot," Dean answered, "Straight back."

Using his flexibility to the max, Sam pushed his leg as far back as it would go and felt fingers on his toes as Dean snatched the knife out of his grip.

Sam hurriedly straightened up, "Get it?"

Dean's voice was flooded with an odd sort of glee—the kind one uses after seeing a magic trick, "Yeah!"

The _flick_ of the blade sliding out of the handle was music to Sam's ears as Dean maneuvered the knife in his right hand so that he was able to saw away at the rope.

They were both thinking through the situation. Lilith was definitely behind the ordeal, and had orchestrated this entire fiasco to get her hands on Sam.

"What is she gonna do?" Sam finally spoke the thought that had been haunting his mind since he'd realized she was involved.

Dean almost paused as he sawed away at the ropes, but refused to let his eyes find Sam's. He was more afraid than Sam could possibly know, but he heard his father's voice, urging him to do what needed to be done. In this situation, John would have said, "Buck up, boy. Sammy needs you. Take care of him. Keep him safe." Dean felt better having imagined his father's voice, but then another phrase that his father had said to him entered his mind, "Watch out for Sammy—save him, or you might have to kill him."

"No," Dean didn't even whisper it, but more or less breathed it, making it barely audible.

"Huh?" Sam inspected Dean's face, trying to read what he'd been thinking.

"I almost got it," Dean answered, keeping Sam from approaching the topic of his thoughts.

Dean gave a triumphant grunt as the rope finally gave on his right hand.

"Get the other one," Sam said unnecessarily.

_What the hell did you think I was gonna do, little brother?_ Dean thought, slightly amused.

Dean used the knife to cut through the bonds on his left hand within moments, then stood and moved towards Sam.

Dean glanced up towards the entrance into the theatre and was thoroughly dismayed to see that Ben had entered though the swing doors in the back of the theatre. He seemed distracted by something to his left and hadn't noticed that Dean was standing yet. Sam caught the look and glanced over his shoulder, immediately discovering that Ben had entered the room.

"GO!" Sam used his foot to shove Dean backwards as Dean tried to use the knife to cut his bonds. There was no way Dean would be able to free Sam in time.

Dean instantly answered in one word, just as loud and just as convicting, "NO!"

Again glancing over his shoulder, Sam saw that Ben had seen Dean now and was trying to level his gun as he ran down the aisle of the theatre.

Sam thrust his foot into Dean's chest, but didn't push hard enough to knock him over, "You know!" The connotation of the thought was that Dean knew damn well that he could never free Sam quick enough to allow them both to escape. The logical thing to do was flee and attempt to save Sam later—not stay and continue to be held captive with Sam. It had been different the first time he'd volunteered for this gig—he'd have had no idea where to go looking or how to track Riley, since he'd become a virtual ghost. There was nothing else he could do and the military part of his mind that had been molded by John read that perfectly. His brotherly instinct did not.

Sam glanced over his shoulder again to see that Ben was halfway down the aisle, his face completely taken over by rage, "STOP!" He was leaning forward as he ran, and in his hurry to reach Dean as quickly as possible, he became top-heavy and stumbled towards the floor. A shot rang out from the gun as Ben hit the carpet and growled in fury.

"Dean, save the girl!" Sam spoke the only thing that would bring Dean to attention—someone else's well being. He knew his brother had a bit of a messiah complex—Sam recognized that they both did—and if someone was in trouble, Dean couldn't resist at least trying to saving them, "Please! GO!"

Dean gave Sam one last apprehensive glance before leaning towards Sam again. Sam had pushed him away twice, but he had read the acceptance in Dean's eyes and trusted him to lean in. Dean slipped the knife into Sam's right hand before jetting towards the front exit door of the theatre.

**Author's Note:** Thanks for reading!! I will update as soon as possible, but I am traveling out of town this weekend. At the latest, I'll post the next chapter on Monday! : ) Comments, thoughts, critiques and ideas are welcome! Have a great weekend!


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note: **Thanks for being patient over the weekend, readers!! I hope you enjoy the chapter, since you had to wait for it! : )

**Chapter 8: Fangs on My Neck**

Dean remembered thinking that the emergency exits were rather pointless, seeing as how everyone shuffled orderly out the door after the credits of a movie rolled up the screen, but he was now extremely thankful for them—because this was definitely an emergency.

Several shots followed Dean out the door, yet none of them hit home, and he found himself smirking despite the fact that he had left his little brother behind. He'd never have done it if there had been another way. But Sam was guaranteed life at least until Lilith showed up. And Dean could do nothing to stop her evil agenda if he was tied up in the seat next to Sam. Dean figured his best bet was to get to the park and stop Riley's plans, then return to the theatre. Whatever was planned, Dean had a feeling that Riley was supposed to be there, chiefly because Sam's vision had been about him and not Lilith. Riley was definitely a key player in the outcome of the Winchester brothers' fate. He could _feel_ it.

Dean sprinted away from the theatre, nearly out of his mind with panic. Upon exiting the darkness, his eyes were assaulted by light and he had to look towards his feet just to keep his eyes open. He glanced again over his shoulder, dreading what he would find. Ben had not exited the theatre yet, but he couldn't be far behind.

When he was able to look straight ahead, Dean found himself in an alley and had to blink several times before his sight was effective enough to operate on. As he rushed towards the street, he spotted the front of a dodge pickup. As it passed, Dean saw that it was pulling a horse trailer behind it. He spared no farther thought as he lunged for the back of the trailer, catching it by the handle and yanking himself forward. He threw one last glance towards the alley exit, which was empty, and was satisfied that no one had seen his means of escape.

Not willing to risk being discovered after the fact, Dean hurriedly opened the back of the horse trailer and pulled himself inside, careful to keep hold of the doors so that he could shut it behind himself.

As he turned to latch the door, Dean was able to see that Ben had just exited the theatre, searching the street for any sign of him. He allowed himself a smirk, but still felt extremely uneasy about Sam's situation.

_Good luck, little brother_, he thought wearily, realizing that the horse trailer was traveling the direction he needed to go. He was fairly certain that he was only about thirty minutes away from Wassenberg Park, which determined that the kidnapping couldn't possibly have happened yet. It'd only been a couple hours since Sam's vision, meaning that it was probably going to happen tonight.

Dean felt the urge to abandoned the horse trailer and go back for Sam, but there was nothing he could do with no weapons. He forced himself to take a deep breath, which he regretted instantly. Although there were no animals in the trailer at the moment, it reeked, revealing that there very recently had been. Dean decided to breath through his mouth as he held onto one of the walls to keep from falling as the trailer rocked and bounced.

_You got the knife now, Sammy,_ Dean thought hopefully, _If you play your cards right, you can shimmy right outta there—just like I did._

**_O O O O O_**

Sam's voice followed Dean out of the exit door, "RUN!"

Ben rounded the front row of the theatre chairs, ignoring Sam as he tried to gain ground on Dean. Sam took the opportunity to thrust his leg forward at the exact right time, tripping Ben and sending him splaying onto the carpet.

After sliding for at least three feet, Ben growled again, before leaping hastily to his feet, displaying the grace of something more than human. He threw a look of disdain over his shoulder at Sam before continuing towards the 'Exit' door.

Sam knew he'd pay for that little act of bravery soon.

_Unless_, Sam started working the knife into a position that would allow him to free his hands, _I can get the fuck outta here right now—_

A lazy voice interrupted Sam's hope of escape, "Nice pig sticker."

Jumping from the unexpected noise, Sam looked to his left to see that one of the vampires from the entrance room had been sent to keep an eye on Sam.

"Great." Sam could think of nothing else to say.

"Give it up," the man continued, referring to the knife.

Sam looked regretfully at the tool that could have saved his life before flicking his fingers and tossing it forward onto the crimson carpet.

The vampire strolled down the aisle, careful to keep his gun aimed in the vicinity of Sam's chest, which seemed absolutely unnecessary to Sam, considering he was tied up and this asshole was a fang.

"What's your name?" Sam asked almost before he had intended to.

The man drew one eyebrow down in a look of confusion, "What?"

"I'm sick of thinking of you as 'Random Gun-Wielding Vampire' in my head," Sam answered, "You got a name?"

Surprisingly, the vampire laughed briefly, "Max."

"It's downright shitty to meet you, Max."

"Likewise," Max bent and scooped up the knife from the floor, "Your brother's a pain in the ass."

Sam surprised himself by chuckling as he glanced towards the ceiling, "Yes he is."

Max gave Sam a strange sort of nod as he made his way cautiously towards the doors that Dean and Ben had exited. Before Sam could even sigh in relief, Ben collided with Max upon re-entering the theatre.

"You son of a bitch!" Ben spouted before Sam had time to register what had happened, "I woulda had him!"

Ben strode until he was standing in font of Sam. He seemed nearly unable to control his rage as he lowered himself into a squatting position. Sam glanced fearfully at Ben's gun before making eye contact with him.

"That's kinda the point," Sam said, despite his better judgment.

Ben blinked and cocked his head to the side, obviously amused by Sam's attempt to remain incorporative. Instead of saying anything, he stood to his full height, towering above Sam's sitting figure. In another moment, he had produced his fangs and put one hand on each of Sam's as he leaned in, clearly meaning to tap into Sam's jugular vein.

Sam jerked his hands upward, obviously disappointed with the fact that he could not move them, "Don't." It was the only word that made sense, as it was the only one prominent in his mind. Sam was aware that Ben merely biting his neck would not turn him, but it was enough to terrify him. He imagined feeling his blood being sucked from his body. He imagined Ben forcing him ingest vampire blood, making him one of them.

As Ben leaned closer, Sam tried to lean away and felt the muscles in his neck straining as he desperately wished he was somewhere else—anywhere else.

Ben paid Sam's plea no mind as he continued to move in, "Oh, Sam," Ben smiled devilishly as he eyed Sam's neck veins, "I'm tempted—very tempted. I think it's the plan anyway—hell, I might even get commended for knowing that and making it happen before all this bullshit."

Sam risked looking into Ben's face, and was disturbed by the hunger and vengeance that dwelled there, "What?"

"You have no idea," Ben continued to tease Sam, his mouth inches from Sam's neck as Sam continued to positively squirm in discomfort and terror, "how powerful you could be. It's not a curse, Sam. It's a gift."

"I don't want it," Sam said the first words that came to his mind.

Ben scoffed loudly, his breath floating over Sam's nostrils. To Sam's dismay, it was a metallic smell—the smell of blood. Sam had to put great effort into avoiding gagging, as Ben's eyes grew darker, "And I've never tasted one of you before—the chosen." This revealed to Sam that Ben's only interest in his blood was the fact that it had been tainted long ago, by a demon who had chosen a collection of 'special' children for candidates as leaders in a war that Sam hoped would never happen.

"Please," Sam was taken off guard by this turn of events. He had not expected to be turned into a vampire and the proceedings of this situation was causing panic to race through his body as if it were a part of him, "I can't—"

Ben raised his eyebrows, daring Sam to insult what he had become.

Sam continued, despite this look, because he knew of nothing else to do, "I can't be like you."

Ben smirked as if he'd desired this statement all along. He leaned his face towards Sam's neck and enjoyed the feeling of horror that was radiating off of Sam.

Sam strained every muscle in his neck to escape the damning fangs, but soon felt the sharp tips of Ben's teeth touch his skin.

After a moment that lasted far too long, Ben withdrew, allowing his fangs to slide back into his gums.

Suddenly Sam felt sick and nearly gagged in relief. He took two deep breaths before he was able to look back into Ben's eyes.

Ben sneered mercilessly, "You should have been begging me to do that."

Sam was still struggling to keep his composure as he looked at Ben in confusion. He felt dizzy and light-headed.

Obviously pleased, Ben smirked as he explained his point, "If you had the strength of a vampire, you'd be unstoppable, Sammy. You coulda busted right outta that seat and outta this theatre."

Sam swallowed as he glanced around the room avoiding Ben's hateful eyes.

"But you knew that," Ben read it in Sam's eyes. He cackled briefly as Max looked on uncertainly, "You knew it and you still begged for me not to do it."

Clearing his throat, Sam thought of Dean, on his way for help. This brief thought inspired him slightly as to what he was expected to say. He knew what Dean would say, "Fuck you."

Ben smirked as if he'd expected a remark like this and wasted no time in backhanding Sam across the face. Sam grunted as his head snapped to his right, causing his bangs to fly across his vision in a brief, black curtain.

Blinking as his vision blurred and righted itself, Sam looked back towards Ben, "I can't _wait_ to see what she does to you."

Sam stared back defiantly for a moment, more frustrated than ever at the fact that he was tied to the chair. With the anger he felt rising within him, he was beginning to think he could take this jackass in a head to head fight—vampire or not.

**Author's Note:** Thanks for your patience, Saltgunners! I had an awesome weekend--one that distracted me from posting more chapters. Because you have all hung with me, I promise to post another chapter sometime tomorrow. A promise from Salty Q is as good as a signed legal document! : ) Hope you are enjoying the story, and as always, comments, critiques, suggestions and thoughts are welcome!


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Note: **That's what I get for making a promise! As you probably know, the site was having some issues yesterday, so I was unable to log on. I apologize for the delay! : ) In any case, here is the next chapter. In it, we learn a little more about Riley.

**Chapter 9: Mind Under Pressure**

Riley slid his tall frame back into the impala, having just left the brothers tied up in the theatre.

Enjoying the rumble of the engine and the feeling of power as he twisted the key in the ignition, Riley threw one last glance over his shoulder. He was irritated by a feeling that he hadn't felt for so long, he had almost forgotten what to call it. Then the word came to him as if it had simply floated into his mind and had never been said: guilt.

As he quickly shifted into gear, he shook his head slightly, wanting to rid himself of such weakness. To distract his mind, he revved the impala loudly once before allowing her to speed out of the theatre's parking lot.

He'd instructed Ben to check on them at least every five minutes, knowing that if Dean were anything like he'd been when he was thirteen, he'd be resourceful, cunning and capable of escape. A small voice entered his thoughts, _Why didn't you just tell Ben to stay in the theatre with them?_

Riley frowned at this voice. As the thought of a young Dean entered his mind, Riley couldn't help but allow himself a moment to remember the past. Riley had been ten years old, lonely, motherless—Dean had given him one of the best summers of his life. He remembered racing their bikes so fast it was a miracle neither of them managed to break a bone all summer; fishing out at the pond; hell, even the work seemed fun when Dean was around. Suddenly realizing that he was actually reminiscing about the enemy, Riley cleared his throat and sighed heavily as he tried to argue with the small, accusing voice.

_I wanted them to sweat it—to wait alone and panic about what will be done to them when Lilith arrives. It's just another way to torture the insolent Winchesters._

The newly troublesome voice said nothing, but Riley could feel the source of it waiting for an explanation.

_I was brutal_, Riley thought proudly, referring to his encounter with Dean at the motel and in the cemetery, _I beat him, mocked him, and abused him—I showed no mercy!_

_Why?_ the small voice continued, coyly pressing into Riley's mind, _To convince him that you hate him—that you actually enjoy hurting him? Or to convince yourself?_

For a moment, Riley lifted his foot from the accelerator as he considered going back to the theatre and telling Ben to simply stand guard in the same room as Sam and Dean. However, as odd as it seemed, he felt he was somehow proving something to the voice that was questioning him by leaving the scene as it was.

Riley barred his teeth and produced his fangs for absolutely no reason as he thrust his foot down on the gas pedal, forcing the impala to climb to a dangerous speed. He made it necessary to concentrate on his reckless driving, pressing all other doubts and thoughts from his troubled mind.

**_O O O O O_**

After fifteen minutes of driving at a ridiculous speed, Riley let his foot off of the pedal and allowed the impala to gradually slow until he was actually driving the speed limit. He had enjoyed the adrenaline rush that the drive had given him and knew that if his heart could beat, it would have been racing as he'd watched the lines on the road pass by as if they were merely dots and swerved around several other cars on the highway.

As Riley drove by the park near the edge of town, he felt it pulling him. She was there—he could feel her delight, which pleased and pained him at the same time. Pulling the impala towards the curb and peering around the park, he spotted her on the swing.

As he rolled to a stop, Riley gazed at her. She pumped with such enthusiasm—striving to gain another inch with each pump of her small, strong legs.

Riley was tempted to approach her now. He could create confusion within the park—enough to make off with the child. But something felt wrong. Someone was watching him. He glared around the park, expecting to see someone staring at his rather conspicuous car, but there were no faces turned his way. In fact, no one seemed remotely interested in anything that had to do with him.

He closed his eyes for a good five seconds and brought his mind and power to focus.

_Something is here with me. It's not supposed to be here; he's not supposed to be here. Or is he __**really**__ here?_ Riley delved deeper into his senses, trying to discover the imposter. _I understand_, Riley's face slid into a smile of satisfaction as his mind approached the truth. _It's Sam—and he's not here at all—he saw this. That's his power. He has visions of terrible things—mostly of deaths and of the chosen ones. That's why his energy is here. He had a __**vision**__ of this._

Riley opened his eyes and looked back towards Abby, now elated by the fact that he had discovered something so interesting. He drew his eyebrows down and glared around the park, trying to overlook anything that belonged there. If he could focus on a spectral energy, he might be able to see it.

He _felt_ it first. After a full minute of meditation, he had felt something towards the south end of the park. He concentrated all of his power into that area. Gradually a soft green light became visible near the parking lot.

"Abby! It's time to go, sweetheart!" Abby's mother called in a voice that echoed within Riley's preoccupied mind.

Riley was absolutely delighted to find that he could actually see Sam's presence. Sam had probably had this vision yesterday—last night at the latest. Riley could feel Sam's energy—it was one of the most enticing feelings he'd ever had. Riley submerged himself into Sam's essence to find that it was somehow both innocent and yet indistinctly tainted. The core of his being felt pure, but it was obvious that Sam didn't consider himself so.

Riley was distracted from Abby as she jumped from the swing and joined her mother. He'd decided not to take action in the park, but he was slightly annoyed that his attention was being drawn toward the fact that Sam had seen all of this a day before it had happened.

Just as Riley decided to shift the car into drive and leave the park, he felt an almost unbearable pressure within his head.

"AH!" He groaned and grasped the steering wheel with his hands as his head was suddenly ablaze with pain, "Jesus!"

Someone new had invaded his present state; someone who had taken over the entire situation. He felt it pushing and pulling at the same time and he knew that he was the only one who could feel it because he was the only one that was physically here.

Riley forced his eyes open and peered towards Sam's green light. He sensed that the new force was pushing it away. Almost immediately, the green aura disappeared, leaving nothing of Sam's energy—it was as if it had been shut off.

Riley could see nothing of the new force at first, then she faded in, scowling like a little girl that had been denied her favorite toy: _Lilith_.

Her voice pummeled Riley's brain, _Keep him out! If he sees, he has a chance!_

Riley absentmindedly nodded in compliance, unable to defy Lilth in any way. Her voice again assaulted the very center of his being, _You have the power, Riley. You must push him out!_

_I will!_ Riley projected his thoughts, nearly panicking with this new development. She had never invaded him like this.

And then it faded, quickly at first, but as it became something that he could barely sense in the pit of his stomach, it lingered, as if she wanted him to remember what she was capable of. Riley swallowed heavily and brought his hands to his face, resisting the urge to vomit—something he hadn't done since he'd been human.

**_O O O O O_**

Dean peered out of the small holes of the horse trailer, willing the rancher to drive faster although his gut told him that going any faster would surely induce sickness. He had to hold on to the inside of the trailer to keep from falling into the filth that his shoes were constantly slipping on.

The thought of shoes brought his mind back around to Sam, who now sat shoeless and restrained inside the theatre. Although Dean had given Sam the knife before fleeing, he couldn't shake the feeling that Sam needed much more to escape the proceedings of a seriously nasty situation.

The ride seemed tortuous to Dean because he was constantly fighting the need to abandon the trailer and run back towards the theatre in order to help Sam. He had to focus all of his common sense in order to override his brotherly instinct.

After what seemed like ages to his worry-ridden mind, Dean saw the sign indicating that he had reached Wassenberg Park. He nearly exited the back as his transport slowed for a stop sign, but he saw something that made him ride along for another block: "Pete's Farming Equipment."

As the trailer rolled by the equipment store at a very slow pace, Dean opened the back door and bailed, barely avoiding a very nasty face-plant into the cement. He straightened himself up as quickly as possible and was pleased to receive only two strange expressions from onlookers.

He felt the need to make his arrival seem somehow legit, so he yelled unnecessarily towards the trailer that he had just exited, "Thanks again for the ride, John!"

Wasting no time in convincing anyone farther of his appearance, he headed straight for the equipment store. He'd have liked to be inconspicuous, but the situation was urgent. Instead of browsing the aisles idly, he strode to the front desk where he was met with a friendly and acne-covered face.

"Do you have any machetes?"

The kid looked taken aback for a moment, so Dean put on his most convincingly genuine expression as he explained, "Damn sugar cane is takin' over my crop!" He was vaguely aware that he had slipped into an odd sort of lazy accent, "Gotta cut them fuckers down, ya' know?"

Suddenly smiling as if he had accepted Dean as one of his own, the clerk nodded, "Ain't that the truth! Follow me, sir."

Two minutes later, Dean had left the equipment store with a harmless-looking bag that contained something very deadly.

He was initially shocked as he saw his impala sitting on the other side of the block, right next to the park. His first thought was to make himself scarce, but as he peered into his own car, he could see that it was Riley who now sat in the driver's seat and his eyes were closed as if he were concentrating. As Dean saw Riley once again, his heart stuttered, still sorrowful over the friend that he had lost.

_Riley's gone_, Dean talked himself through the situation, _That guy is something else. He's evil, he's ruthless, and he wants to hurt Sam._

The last part of the thought did it. Dean decided that he would get the bastard before he could destroy what was left of Dean's family. He felt a new kind of hunter's instinct—one that wholly had to do with Sam's well being—creep into his mind and he welcomed it as he crept toward the impala.

For some reason, he felt as if he were flying under the radar because bigger things were happening at the moment. He wasn't even sure where this feeling was coming from, but it gave him hope to think that Riley was somehow preoccupied. If he timed it just right, he could gain control of the situation.

Dean's nostrils flared as he thrived on the brutal precision that he had utilized to approach his own car. For some reason, Riley was completely distracted, which didn't make sense to him, but he forced himself not to care. Riley was the enemy.

As he neared the back left tire of his own beloved car, Dean caught himself smiling and wanting nothing more than to hurt the man that had once been his closest friend. He shook the thought away as he reached for the door handle, reveling in the prospect of dealing Riley a big old hand of _Fuck You!_

Dean stayed crouched by the back left tire of his impala and took one last deep breath. He knew as soon as he made his move, it would be all or nothing. He had to move with perfect grace and precision in order to get the drop on Riley.

After letting the breath out slowly, Dean initiated his attack.

**Author's Note:** Thanks for reading! This chapter was very difficult for me to write because I was toying with several different ideas. Let me know if you like where this is headed and how you feel about Riley, now that you know him a little better. Thanks again for reading and sorry once again for the delay! : ) Have a great day!


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's Note:** Here's the next chapter. Tuck in, kids. It's more of a double chapter, but I wanted to give you more this time and I was on a roll. Thanks so much for continuing to read my story and don't be afraid to leave a quick review! Enjoy!

**Chapter 10: Power**

For the hundredth time Sam placed his feet flat on the ground and pushed upwards, aware that he was making his wrists bleed, yet unaware of the agonizing pain. The physical pain was nothing compared to the mental torture he was putting himself through. A thousand possibilities were floating in and out of his mind every minute and he could do nothing to stop them. So many questions, so many undesired answers—he wanted it to end, yet could not let himself accept an ending that would come from the situation.

Finally someone shoved the swing door open in the back of the theatre. Sam would have liked to give them a real show of defiance, but he was nearly dying to know what was going to happen next. He immediately twisted in his chair to see that Ben was walking down the aisle, accompanied by Max and a young girl.

Sam opened his mouth to question what was happening, but the little girl smirked knowingly and he found himself unable to talk. The rest of the world fell away—Ben, Max and every other detail of the theatre. As the girl rounded the last row of theatre chairs, they too faded into oblivion. He was unable to see anything aside from the girl, who now stood in front of him, smiling sweetly.

_What the hell?_ Sam's mind was flying into panic. The rational, educated side of him knew it was important to stay calm, but he was unable to resist the feeling of alarm that was overtaking him, _Why can't I talk?! Is my mouth even moving?_

He closed his eyes and concentrated on his own body, discovering that his mouth was not moving. She was able to control it and was not allowing him to speak.

Since he could see nothing aside from Lilith, he focused his eyes on her, desperately trying not to fall into an abyss of uncontrollable terror. She was around ten years old, dark-haired and pointy nosed. She wore a purple dress with matching shoes and radiated nothing but innocence. Yet Sam could _feel_ it within her. He was nearly sick with the solidity of it; the sensation of a thousand dirty, bloody souls, given to her or taken by her to spend an eternity in a realm of torture. Screaming echoes danced within his mind for a moment, making him unable to even look at her for fear of drowning in a sea of maddening misery, swimming just beneath her deceivingly childlike blue eyes.

_Oh, God_, Sam could harvest no other thoughts within his overwhelmed mind.

Lilith's eyes sparkled with glee as she assessed him, "No shoes," she approached Sam and held a hand up, clearly meaning to touch his forehead, "Why haven't you worn any shoes? Didn't you know we'd be playing?" Her voice was as innocent as a person would expect from a child, but Sam was nearly gagging on her hatred for him, as he felt it being projected from the very axis of her being.

As her small, slender fingers made connection with Sam's forehead, sliding across his brow, he yearned to cry out for help. It wasn't pain—it was much worse. He felt her driving herself into his very soul, disconnecting him from who he was. Fighting the feeling with all of his strength, Sam could feel his own soul longing to give up.

Just as Sam felt that he was about to be thrown into an abyss of misery and defeat, he felt the hold on his soul begin to ebb away. She _was_ playing. She wanted to drive him hard enough to _want_ it. And he wasn't sure he didn't. He could hardly imagine surviving more than a minute of whatever she had just done to him.

Dean's voice suddenly flooded Sam's mind, _Don't you dare, little brother. I'm coming._

Fully aware that he had created this voice within his mind, Sam decided to listen to it anyway. A falsified voice of his brother's was much more enticing than Lilith's desires any day. Sam felt himself shift slightly in his seat, positioning himself to fight for all he was worth. He wouldn't let her win. She could torture him until there was nothing left, but Sam invested in the idea that it wouldn't come to that. Dean's voice echoed once more within him, encouraging him to resist Lilith's power, _That's it, Sammy. You show her how the Winchesters roll._

_**O O O O O**_

The ach in Riley's head was slowly subsiding, but he could still sense her in his gut. She was beginning to doubt him—he could feel it. Was her voice the one that had questioned him as he'd left the theatre?

There was a sudden commotion behind him, which startled him out of his thoughts. At first he thought something had hit the car—a wild soccer ball or simply a clumsy kid, but as he pulled his head out of his hands and raised his head to peer out the window, a blade flashed downward across his vision. Riley grunted and attempted to reach for it, but it was resting on his neck before he had even been able to raise his hands.

"Hands on the wheel," Dean growled, pulling back on the machete, causing a bead of blood to trickle down Riley's neck.

Riley glared into the rearview mirror, as he complied, "You son of a bitch."

Dean was holding the machete handle in his left hand as his right hand was wrapped around the end of the blade. He had used the paper bag that it had come in as a makeshift handle for his right hand. The blade was thin and sharp—all it would take to slice through Riley's neck was a swift pull backwards on Dean's part.

"How'd you do it?" Dean snarled into Riley's ear, "How'd you escape the Yellow Eyed Demon when he collected all of his _precious_, chosen children?"

Riley stayed silent, enraged at the fact that Dean had caught him off his game.

"How?!" Dean put more pressure on the machete, causing Riley to tip his head back slightly, "Tell me or kiss your ass goodbye—well, kiss your _head_ goodbye—same thing."

There was really no reason not to tell Dean, "She found me first. She told me what I was—what my powers meant. She showed me what I could become and made me who I am." Riley was aware that the description seemed rehearsed and did not fight the way the words fell out of his mouth. The world was still fairly unstable as he glanced towards the tapestry on the ceiling of the car, trying to focus on one spot and allow his vision to regulate itself.

"Great," Dean's voice was slightly calmer having gotten the information he had asked for, "You do realize you just gave me the description of a classic brainwashing, right?"

Riley stayed silent, finding himself unwilling to argue with this fact. On some level he'd always been aware that she had only made him strong for her own benefit, but he was also getting the power in return. He desired to believe that he had chosen this fate, but lately, he'd begun to question this small detail of his position.

"You think a brainwashing is what I've been through?"

Dean blinked, hearing something in Riley's voice he'd have never thought possible after their encounter last night: regret. Somewhere deep within his mind, Riley regretted what he'd become. Dean could read it in his old friend's voice.

_It's a trick!_ Dean forced himself to remain cold, _He's making you feel for him. Don't let him get to you, Dean._

Dean felt the thoughts become physical as he pulled his hands back half an inch, causing Riley to thrust his neck backwards and gasp, most likely expecting Dean to end his existence.

"Just drive us back to the theatre, asshole. One wrong move and I'll turn you into two nasty pieces instead of just one," Dean did his best to sound calloused and harsh, but he could hear in his own voice that his words were forcibly cruel.

Riley could not move his head without causing another cut to his neck, but he spoke in a whisper, "Okay."

Dean allowed Riley an inch to operate on, although he imagined that the vampire's ability to function his own body was still quite difficult, not to mention the fact that he was controlling the car. The thought of his baby convinced Dean to allow Riley one more inch of flexibility as he glanced around the windows, hoping that no one had noticed the proceedings within the car.

It was only a matter of time before someone spotted the situation, which made Dean's heart nearly skip a beat. He couldn't imagine being sidetracked by civilian trivialities when something so large was at stake. He reflected on the fact that to any average person, this would appear as if it were some sort of car jacking—an intense one, to be sure, but a car jacking all the same. Dean recalled Sam's words at this sort of situation: _Man, our lives are weird_.

The thought of Sam made Dean all the more focused on the destination at hand, "Get goin', _friend_." He meant for the word 'friend' to sound condescending and sarcastic, but couldn't help but notice that the connotation of the word actually insinuated a connection. Irritated, he added hastily, "Go!"

After a brief hesitation, Riley shifted the car into gear, pulling away from the curb and flipping a U-turn in order to go back towards the theatre, all the time peering out of the bottom of his eyes because the machete prevented him from tipping his head downwards.

"Dude," Riley spoke after nearly hitting a parked car for the third time.

Despite the fact that Dean was trying to appear 'all business', he had also noticed the potential damage that may come to his baby, but was unwilling to allow Riley any more operating room. Riley was a vampire—he was stronger, faster, and more graceful than a human being—any underestimation of his power would do Dean in.

"Shut up and drive," Dean ordered as he allowed Riley another inch of slack.

**_O O O O O_**

Sam let out a heavy sigh as the torturous invasion of his body faded slowly, "Is that all you got?" He was slightly surprised, but pleased that he was now able to talk.

Lilith continued to smile, "No, Sam," she skipped in place as her smile and eyes grew abnormally large, "It isn't."

Another wave of agony burst into his head, begging him to surrender to the torture. To Sam's surprise and distress, it began to spread within his body. He could feel her in his chest, in the very pit of his stomach, even in his bare feet. She was invading his body as if she were a rapid and very painful virus.

"Stop!" Sam couldn't help but scream the single word, attempting to put an end to his own suffering and feeling that it was somehow selfish, "Stop!"

The pain subsided marginally; though it still continued to throb within Sam's very heart, "What—?"

Sam was barely able to look at Lilith, fully aware that his chest was heaving uncontrollably under her force.

"Yes?" Her eyes sparkled with delight. He had been fighting with everything he possessed as she had berated his mind with her force. So far, he'd been able to resist whatever she was trying to do to his body, but he could feel his resolve wearing thin.

"What do you want?" Sam hated the words as much as he hated her, but could not avoid speaking them. He wanted to know what it took to end it—he yearned for it to be over, and he couldn't imagine another minute of the pain he'd withstood since Lilith had arrived.

The little girl threw her head back, cackling in a way that no _real_ little girl could have managed, making Sam feel sick with anticipation and alarm.

"Sam," She strolled in front of him, the hem of her purple dress dancing about her knees, "You were _my_ favorite, too. But he got to you first—he made you think it was about him." Her false childish smile and demeanor made her tone seem even more sinister, "He was good—so good. He got all of you—except for Riley. I found him hiding from what he had become. He wanted to escape. I let him escape. I gave him more power."

Sam's eyebrows drew upward as he sucked in another uncertain breath. He had no way of escape and no argument to offer. She was speaking of turning Riley into a vampire, which was obviously not only a possibility, but also very plausibly the plan for him. Sam swallowed, unwilling to allow this prospect to become a reality. He would fight it with every ounce of his being, refusing to become a monster.

"He didn't know," Lilth's glee was nothing short of nauseating, "He wanted it. He was lonely, Sam. He'd been without a family and without a home since he'd discovered his power." Lilith backed away from Sam until she was leaning against the front part of the stage, "I didn't make him _take_ it," her eyes danced with devilish pleasure as she crossed her small arms in front of her, "I made him _beg_ for it."

"I won't," Sam answered, barely aware that he had intended to talk at all.

Another round of amused laughter echoed throughout the theatre, "I know." Lilith approached Sam slowly, her voice falling into a mockingly childish singsong voice, "You aren't like him at all."

Although Sam wanted nothing more than to defy whatever she expected him to do, he couldn't help himself from speaking, "Why? What do you want from me?" The question was given much more enthusiasm than Sam had originally intended, but he found himself nearly overwhelmed with the desire to understand what was happening.

"Sam," his name seeped through her lips as if it were something she loved and hated at the same time. The singsong voice returned, resembling a child during recess, "And I won't give you more power."

Sam clenched his jaw shut, determined not to allow himself to be swayed. He could feel her near the fringe of his being, clawing her way in, wanting to make a part of him belong to her. He wouldn't allow it—he _couldn't_ allow it.

"Give in, Sam," Lilith controlled the small girl's body with grace as she practically danced in front of him, "You can be free. You won't hate yourself anymore."

This caught Sam off-guard. He balked and glanced down at his hands, still tied mercilessly to the armrests of the theatre chairs. In fact, this was the first time he'd been able to focus on anything aside from Lilith herself. He resisted the urge to smile as this small development meant that he might have a chance.

Intentionally diverting his attention away from her, he closed his eyes momentarily, before attempting to see something aside from her falsely innocent face. He looked down to see that his body was visible, as well as the chair that he had come to loathe. He could sense her anger as she felt him resisting with more effort, pushing her away.

The carpet came into view, the angry red so bright that it nearly hurt his eyes at first. Then he pulled his eyes upwards, willing himself to look at anything except for Lilith. Movement caught his eye just to his right and he glanced that way to see that it was Ben. It was working. The pain and the feeling of invasion were slowly retreating away from him as each new object came in to focus.

Lilith's small features contorted into a scowl of fury as she took a careful step back, allowing her energy to be thrust away from Sam. The world washed back into vision suddenly, making Sam's eyes sting. He closed them and lowered his head, somewhat exhausted with the effort it had taken to push her away.

_**O O O O O**_

Dean's arm muscles were beginning to ach with the effort of keeping the machete in place. He felt as if his arms had been flexed and ready for hours, although they had not been driving for more than a few minutes.

Riley read him like a book, "Tired?"

Dean scoffed, inwardly disappointed with himself for having reacted at all, "You wish."

Every part of Dean's anatomy suddenly flew forward as Riley slammed on the brakes. Dean managed a strangled yelp before crashing into the back of Riley's seat. In the briefest of moments, Dean felt as if he could have hurt Riley—could have killed him, had he chose to—but he'd let the split second pass, and dropped his right hand to the seat in an effort to resist being thrown into the front of the car.

Riley snarled with satisfaction as the blade flew forward, away from his neck. Strangely, his instinct was to grin with pride at Dean, who may have been the closest friend he'd ever known.

As the impala groaned to a halt, Riley swiped Dean's left arm out of the way as he flung the door open and bailed out of the car. When he'd regained his balance, he turned back, giving Dean a nasty smirk and readying himself for the fight to come.

Returning Riley's smirk with one of his own, Dean opened the door and exited the car, careful to keep the machete in front of him. At first, neither man moved, allowing a moment of reflection to transpire. One of them had taken the noble path by fighting evil and the other had agreed to live the life of the very thing he hated. As the moment passed, they understood that this was the culmination of their friendship and rivalry—of their relationship to each other. Today was the day. Both had seen much and been through hell, but today was the day they made it matter.

After the short-lived moment, Riley lunged forward. Dean reacted instinctively, swinging the machete at Riley's head. Riley had ducked low and avoided the blade by less than an inch, as his body collided with Dean's, sending them both into the impala before landing in a heap on the side of the highway. Dean's already bruised ribs screamed in protest, but he forced himself to ignore the pain—he'd deal with that later.

Dean felt the machete fly from his grasp as he was forced to use his right hand to prevent a nasty face plant into the pavement. Riley's fist connected with his kidney before he could manage to flip back around and he grunted loudly. Riley was about to gain a straddling position, and Dean knew if he allowed that, the fight would be over. He used his arms and legs to shove himself upward, rocking them both off balance.

Annoyed that this had become more of a brawl than the noble fight Dean had anticipated, he struggled to his feet, positioning himself to gain the advantage. Riley quickly did the same and before even a second had passed, Dean had moved in.

The first three attempts at a solid hit were blocked, but Dean could tell that Riley was impressed with his speed and grace. He also had the disquieting feeling that Riley was holding back speed—not giving Dean his full effort yet—which worried Dean. However, if he used the fact that Riley may be underestimating him, he could defeat him.

Dean changed it up on his fourth swing, going for the body instead of the face. His fist connected with Riley's stomach and he saw Riley display a look of surprise, but he recovered quickly. Riley shifted into offensive mode as he forced Dean's left arm down and swung at his face. Dean twisted to the side, trying to avoid the fist and almost succeeded. Instead of a solid connection, it glanced off of his right cheekbone. It hurt like hell, but it could have been a lot worse.

Using the hold that Riley had on his arm against him, Dean thrust his body forward, once again slamming into his impala as he squatted as low as he could with Riley still holding his left arm. He reached forward with his right hand and yanked Riley's left foot as far back and up as he could without losing his own balance.

Riley's face registered shock before he found himself on his ass with his back against the impala. Dean wasted no time in grabbing Riley's head with both of his hands, pulling it forward and thrusting his knee straight into Riley's face.

Riley grunted indistinctly, struggling to stay conscious so Dean repeated the move twice more, until he was sure that Riley was out cold. Releasing his hold on Riley's head, Dean stumbled backwards two steps as he watched Riley slump to the ground. His face was already swelling on the left side, where Dean had kneed him.

Slightly relieved, but somehow oddly disappointed that the fight had been rather anticlimactic, Dean bent forward and rested his hands on his knees for a moment, trying not to breath too heavily, as it caused more pain in his ribs. "That was pretty pathetic," he almost whispered, more to himself than to Riley's unconcious body.

The sound of an diesel engine faded into Dean's hearing as a truck topped the hill on which the impala sat. As the truck slowed to a halt on the other side of the highway, the elderly man driving the truck used his index finger to tip his John Deere hat up slightly as he surveyed what Dean supposed was a very strange scene.

Dean smiled awkwardly, glancing around for the machete, which lay about ten feet to his right.

The man caught his glance and followed it, spotting the machete, "Is everything . . . okay, here?"

Dean chuckled nervously, "Yeah, had to pull over here and. . .uh. . " Dean glanced over his shoulder to find that they were actually sitting in front of a corn field, "And cut some sugar cane."

The man's eyebrows drew upward, questioningly as he glanced towards Riley.

"He had a little too much to drink."

"It's 10 in the morning."

"Yeah," Dean again glanced back towards Riley, now beginning to fear that he would wake up before Dean could get rid of the curious farmer, "He's pretty hardcore."

The man finally looked back towards the road and shifted his truck back into gear, "If you're sure you don't need help . . ."

Dean again smiled and put one hand out in front of him, "No, no, we're fine. Thanks for stopping."

Finally, to Dean's great relief, the man gave him a nod and hit the gas, pulling back onto the highway.

Dean had to resist the urge to laugh. He'd been in some really strange situations—ones that civilians and especially farmers wouldn't understand—but it seemed like the mention of the good of one's crops could get a fellow out of almost anything around here.

Sighing heavily, Dean walked back towards Riley, amused at the fact that less than eight hours ago he'd been chatting up a friendly desk clerk at a motel. This day had gotten way too weird way too fast.

**Author's Note:** Will Sam be able to resist Lilith? Will Dean make it in time to save him? And what role will Riley play? I hope to have a new chapter up by Sunday. Thanks so much for reading and don't be shy! Leave a comment and let me know what you think! : )


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's Note:** Here is the next chapter! A special thanks to those of you that continue to review!

**Chapter 11: Playing**

Fire. One thought coursing within his mind: _fire_. It grew within him as he clenched his eyes shut in misery. His very insides flared with unimaginable agony as he willed himself to stay conscious. She was still playing—toying with him as if he were something she'd found under the tree on Christmas morning.

The feeling of fire subsided and Sam forced his eyes open. Max had appeared and was striding down the aisle. The look of dread on his face suggested that he was about to tell Lilith something she wasn't going to like. She took the cue and met him near the aisle.

Max whispered something as Sam strained to hear the words. He couldn't understand them, so he concentrated on Max's lips and was able to see that he spoke Dean's name at least twice.

"What happened?" Sam was still reeling from Lilith's most recent attack, but the idea of Dean brought him to full attention. Sam yanked on his binds with all he was worth, hating the inanimate rope more than he'd ever hated anything. Rubbing his hands back and forth, he felt the rope on his right wrist shift. He glanced down, unable to see exactly what he'd done, but hope sparked within him.

Finally Lilith turned away from Max and approached Sam. Her expression was troubled for a moment before she replaced it with her sickeningly innocent smile.

Sam couldn't help himself from questioning her about Dean. A hundred awful possibilities had already flown through his mind, "What happened? What'd you do to him? If you hurt him, I will—"

His words were cut off by excruciating pain that ripped through his head and flowed quickly down towards his chest. He gasped and choked, feeling as if he were on the brink of death. He felt his legs flail pointlessly as he writhed in agony. When he was sure he would die from the pain, it drew back, though he could still feel it, licking at the outer edge of his life force.

"Sammy, Sammy, Sammy," she sang in a voice that made Sam's skin crawl with dread, "I don't have to _kill_ you." The word 'kill' was stretched into at least four counts within her self-composed song, "I just want to take it."

Sam pulled his head up, still dizzy from the pain, "Take what?" He was entirely exhausted with resisting her power and wanted nothing more than for it to end. He had opened his mouth two different times, intending to exclaim that he would give her anything—_anything_—to end this torture, yet both times he had been able to stop himself.

Lilith's 'meat suit' took a bow at these words, as if Sam had somehow complimented her, before grinning with a mouthful of teeth, "Your power, Sam. I want it." Sam was apalled by the fact that she sounded like a child demanding a toy at the supermarket.

Sam couldn't help but be thankful for the fact that she had quit assaulting him for the moment and decided to continue the conversation, hoping it would delay another unbearable attack, "Power?"

"It can be separated," Lilith spoke the words as if they were discussing the weather over morning tea, "I don't want you, Sam. I just want your power. If you resist long enough, it will kill you—then no one gets it." She paused as she brought both of her hands to her face, revealing purple painted fingernails. She pressed her hands to her cheeks and made a show of sighing out a long breath, "And that would be a shame."

Sam swallowed and glanced towards the floor. She knew she was breaking him—that he couldn't last much longer—but he didn't know how to give her this so-called power. Even if he'd wanted to, he had no idea how to go about doing so.

_Sam_. A stern voice was on the verge of scolding him within his mind—Dean's voice. Dean's voice had been periodically popping into his mind, willing him last long enough for Dean to come back. Every time Sam began to consider giving in, it was there, encouraging him to resist her power.

_Okay_, Sam finally answered the voice that he had created to help him somehow survive Lilith's torturous game. _But hurry_.

Lilith was standing in front of Sam, eyebrows tilted up expectantly and her bottom lip slightly pushed forward, pouting, "Give it to me."

Sam was finally able to bring his eyes up to meet hers, "No."

Another surge of anguish slashed through Sam's attempt to rationalize the situation. "Aaaughh!" He dipped his head down, wishing with all of his being that his hands were available to hold his aching forehead. Somehow the pain allowed him more focus than he'd felt in days. He emerged himself in it—until he _wanted_ it—then he _used_ it, once again tapping Dean's energy as he spoke, "Bitch!" He felt her essence pull away again and knew that she was thoroughly disappointed.

Sam had accomplished something, though he wasn't sure what it was. Lilith was forcing herself to appear unaffected by what Sam had just done, but he knew better. He could feel it in the presence that she had just been forcing upon him. She was pissed.

"Fine," Lilith's face revealed that she wanted Sam to believe she was undaunted, "There's always plan B." She smiled sweetly, as if she'd just revealed the fussed-over cake for the birthday boy, "You won't give it to me? I'll take it."

Lilith broke her childish demeanor as she snapped her fingers and looked expectantly towards the door. Sam twisted in his seat, anxious to see what the next stage of his torture would be. To his surprise, there was a woman striding down the aisle of the theatre, an apprehensive look on her face.

"Hello, Beth." As Lilith tilted her head to the side, her eyes once again grew strangely large as she offered Beth a toothy smile.

Beth finally passed the last row of chairs and walked towards Lilith and Sam. She was an attractive, middle-aged woman with shockingly red hair, which fell just below her shoulders. She was broad shouldered for a woman and she was carrying a good-sized tote bag over her left shoulder. Sam also couldn't shake the feeling that she seemed somehow familiar, although he was almost certain he had never seen her before.

"We're going to have to do it your way. If I push any harder, it might kill him," Lilith spoke in a tone that a child would use to discuss the strategy of a merry-go-round, "What do you need?"

To Sam's surprise, she stopped at least five feet away from Lilith, obviously fearful of her. Lilith pretended not to notice and continued to smile unnervingly.

"I have what I need here," she motioned her head towards her bag, "But I need the room to be empty—aside from Sam and I."

At these words, Sam's eyes flew back to Lilith as he felt a surge of hope. If Lilith were out of the room, she wouldn't be berating his body with her force. That was something Sam couldn't help but be thankful for, regardless of Beth's plans for him. Whatever it was, it couldn't be worse than Lilith's torture had been.

Lilith frowned at these words as she turned back towards Sam and cocked her head to the side, resembling a confused dog. As her eyes dug into him, Sam held his breath, fearing another attack simply for her amusement. After a long moment, she turned back to Beth, "I don't like that."

Beth was positively squirming under Lilith's gaze, "It's the spell. If you're here, it could affect you as well."

Lilith pursed her lips together, disappointed at these words. As her eyes seemed to be burrowing into Beth, questioning her loyalty, Beth shifted her weight nervously. Lilith sighed and clicked her tongue. Then the brilliant smile took over her features—the one that made Sam feel nauseous.

"Fine," She gave Sam another long stare before practically prancing around Beth and towards the back of the theatre. When she reached the entrance, she turned back, "Don't be too long—and try not to kill him. I want to give Sam a little taste of what we're taking from him."

**_O O O O O_**

The impala purred to a stop a block away from the abandoned theatre. Dean knew that they would all be on high alert and could only hope that they hadn't left. He cut the engine and climbed out of the car, running through a quick supply check. Machete? _Check_. Gun? _Check_. Plan? _Sorta_. Leverage? _Check_.

As if on cue, a thump and a muffled grunt came from the trunk of the impala. Dean smiled as he tapped the hood of the trunk twice with the machete and said quietly, "Don't hurt yourself, old buddy." He started to slink towards the alley in which he had made his escape only hours before. As an afterthought, he frowned and turned back towards the car, saying a little louder, "And don't hurt my car!"

As Dean surveyed the streets, he was pleased to see that most of the buildings in the immediate area seemed abandoned. He hadn't taken any real notice to the surroundings when they'd been shuffled up to the theatre in the mild light of the coming morning; and he certainly hadn't bothered to stop and make any observations as he'd hopped a horse trailer out of the alley when he'd escaped. Peering around the streets, he spotted a total of three people and barely felt the need to even hide his machete, as the three people he _did_ see were walking with their shoulders slumped and their eyes to the ground. Odds were they knew something nasty had been going on that theatre and were too afraid to interfere, fearing that they might just get a little nastiness thrown their way for doing so.

Wishing that it was dark so he'd have more cover, but knowing that he couldn't possibly wait until nightfall to get back to Sam, Dean worked his way nearer to the theatre exit that had provided his means of escape. As expected, there were two men guarding that door with large automatic weapons and rather bored looks on their faces. Not only had they learned from their mistake of allowing Dean to escape, it was apparent that they expected him to come back. And they were ready.

**_O O O O O_**

Beth sighed heavily after Lilith had taken her leave. It was obvious that she was relieved to have Lilith out of the room as she took the last two steps towards Sam, being careful not to get close enough for him to make contact with her using his feet. She sat Indian-style with her back against the front part of the stage and lowered her bag in front of her, all the time avoiding Sam's gaze.

Glancing over his shoulder towards the entrance, Sam was satisfied that they had been left alone. He began speaking quietly and rapidly, "Don't, please. Whatever she wants you to do, don't do it."

Beth essentially ignored Sam, but he could see her frowning. She still avoided looking anywhere near him as she began to pull items from her tote bag.

Sam continued to work his hands under his ropes, fully aware that he was rubbing them raw and not giving a damn. He was now able to move his right wrist at least an inch back and forth and could feel that he was gaining some slack. He twisted it, pulled it, pushed it; moved his right arm in every way possible, attempting to loosen the binds.

Sam recognized a few of the things that Beth had produced, but wasn't sure how they would be used together. As he continued to work at the ropes, Sam tried again to speak to Beth, "You don't want to do this. You don't have to be afraid of her, alright?" He tried to sound sincere and reassuring instead of scared and pleading, like he felt, "Just—please, just look at me."

To his surprise, Beth finally lifted her head to stare into his face, her light green eyes frightened, "You don't understand."

Sam was bewildered to see that she was on the verge of tears, "I do, okay?" Sam nodded his head, wanting to get through to her, now that she was actually looking at him, "I know what she's capable of, but we can get away. We'll both go—right now."

"She'll—" Beth glanced fearfully at the entrance to the theatre as if she expected Lilith to somehow know of the exchange that was taking place, "She'll hurt them," Beth finally finished in a whisper as a choked sob escaped her body.

Horrified, Sam could only stare back for a moment, "Your family?"

The answer came in the form a meek nod as she dropped her eyes away from Sam, clearly ashamed of what she was doing, but fully believing that she had no choice.

**Author's Note:** Thanks so much for reading, friends! I hope to have a new chapter posted some time tomorrow! (As always, all comments and reviews are appreciated and answered!) Cheers!


	12. Chapter 12

**Author's Note:** Here's the new chapter. Since it took an extra day, I made it a bit longer than the chapters have been. Enjoy!

**Chapter 12: The Spell**

Riley struggled futilely with the chains that Dean had used to secure his arms and legs. His wrists were shackled in front of him, which allowed him some movement, but the manacles were thick and ruthlessly tight. He had worked one of his hands into his pocket already to confirm what he'd expected. Dean had emptied his pockets. He was without his phone, without money and, most importantly, without his small pocketknife that would have proved useful in picking the locks on his chains.

Unable to see, he hadn't determined exactly how his chains were secured. They were attached to something inside the trunk, which prevented him from simply trying to kick the trunk open by force and make his escape.

He again yanked on the chains, frustrated, and ignored the pain it caused in his wrists. Deciding to go for strategy instead of brute force, he worked his hands along the chain, trying to discover what was preventing his escape. As his fingers found the end of the chain, he was able to feel that it was padlocked to a very thick metal bar in the deepest part of the trunk.

_Son of a bitch_, Riley was extremely frustrated, but couldn't help but feel an odd sense of approval, _Fucker thought of everything. _

Sighing loudly, he tried to concentrate on a way to escape the trunk and found himself annoyed to be distracted by an overactive mind.

_What the fuck am I doing? How did it come to this? All I had to do was deliver Sam, but I allowed Dean to become a part of __it—then _allowed him to get the jump on me! As his mental frustrations built into a knot in his stomach, Riley thrust his arms upwards, hitting the trunk with as much force as he could produce. Aside from it jolting his elbows and making his wrists ach, it accomplished nothing, yet he couldn't stop his mind from continuing the troubling thoughts.

Suddenly a new thought came to him, in barely more than a whisper within him, _What if you just left? What if you got out and left all together? You could start over. You know you could._

Riley tried to push this idea away, as the thought of Lilith entered his mind. _She'd find me._

Inwardly resolving that he had no choice but to go back to Lilith another thought creeped into his mind. It was a thought that he'd resisted over the past few hours as the situation had begun to spiral out of his control, _Sam's resisting her. You once thought of him as a weak excuse for a human being—reading, sulking, complaining—but he's the one in there fighting her. And you're chained up in a trunk._

Irritated by these increasingly troubling thoughts, Riley shifted his weight again and grunted as his belt dug into his hip momentarily.

_My belt_, Riley's face fell into a smirk in the darkness of the trunk. _Okay, just concentrate on getting out of this shithole. Then you can decide what to do._

_**O O O O O**_

Dean had planted himself behind the dumpster approximately ten feet away from the two men guarding the back exit. As he readied himself to attack, one of them spoke, causing him to settle for a moment to see if he would learn any new information.

"What's she doin' in there anyhow?" The first voice was slow and lazy.

"None of our business," a curt voice answered, clearly annoyed with his companion.

"Do you really think that it'll be better if she gets what she wants?" The curious one pressed on, undaunted by the other's irritation.

"I dunno." There was a long, thoughtful pause, "I don't think it'll get worse."

"Do you smell that? It smells like him." There was a pause as the owner of the voice gave the air a healthy sniff.

Dean instinctively drew back, afraid that they had smelled him and more than a little uneasy by the fact that he had been "smelled out".

"It's just 'cause we were in there earlier," the other voice answered, clearly trying to sound intelligent, "It'll wear off."

"Think she'll let us have him?" The lazy voice asked eagerly, "When she's done? I'm hungry. And did you feel how he smelled?"

Dean's nostrils flared and he had to stop himself from charging at the two men half cocked. He was unsure of how one could _feel_ an aroma, but he held his ground for another moment, planning and listening to gain any edge on the two imbeciles guarding the door.

"Yeah," the brighter of the two dimwitted vampires answered, "He smelled like—" Dean was sickened by the fact that the vampire made a strange sound by sucking air through his teeth as he pressed his tongue against them, clearly imagining what Sam would taste like, "Power."

"Yeah," the vampire agreed with enthusiasm, "Power."

"But I don't know. I think she might kill him—with whatever she's doin' to him."

Dean decided it best not to listen to the disturbing conversation concerning Sam. Instead, he positioned himself and analyzed his next move, scrutinizing everything that could possibly go wrong. When he was satisfied with his plan, he launched himself upward and forward, knowing that the key to successfully overcoming the two vampires was surprise and speed.

The two vampires were so preoccupied that they didn't even see Dean's appearance from behind the dumpster. Dean reached them in two bounds as he sliced the machete through the air, successfully beheading the first vampire. The other vampire watched as his companion's head fell to the ground making a dull thud before bringing his eyes back up to Dean, his face registering nothing but shock. Dean was able to conclude from the remaining vampire's 'stunned stupid' expression that he was the not-so-bright member of the duo, which pleased Dean. He'd killed the more useful of the two vampires first.

Without wasting another moment, Dean swept his right arm across his body, catching the automatic weapon that the other vampire had finally tried to bring to the ready. Ironically, if the vampire had chosen a smaller, less intimidating gun, he'd probably have been able to get a shot off at Dean. As the barrel swung away from his body, Dean cringed, anticipating the gun to fire, but was pleased when it did not. With another swipe of the ridiculously sharp machete, he had beheaded the second vampire as well. He grimaced as he felt blood splatters decorate his face.

"Gross," he used his sleeve to wipe some of the blood away, but that was hardly his concern at the moment. He regarded the four pieces of vampire debris with distain briefly, before sneering and approaching the exit door.

_**O O O O O**_

"You don't have to do it," Sam again glanced over his shoulder, annoyed by the feeling that they were somehow being overheard and cursing himself for adapting the paranoid behavior of everyone who was serving Lilith.

Beth carefully arranged the items she'd provided for her ritual as she settled herself into a comfortable position, "I'm sorry."

Sam clenched his jaw as he thrust his hands forward, trying to gain more leeway with the ropes, convinced that she fully intended to go through with the spell. He couldn't bring himself to blame or hat her for it. He could imagine that he'd do nearly anything to protect his own family—what was left of them anyway: Dean and Bobby.

As Sam watched, she allowed herself to look remorsefully at Sam. He swallowed as he looked into her regretful eyes and couldn't help from asking, "Will it hurt?"

Beth leaned forward, intentionally averting her eyes from his, as she finished arranging her mystical items and prepared to perform the spell. Sam took that as a definite _yes_.

As Beth began to chant in latin quieter than Sam would have anticipated, he rocked his body upwards, now nearly panicking with the need to escape. He felt the bond on his right wrist shift again as he gained a small amount of leverage and worked to use it to his advantage.

His mind was in a state of outright terror and he had to close his eyes for a few seconds before he could speak again, "Please." He felt as if he were projecting every ounce of his humanity towards her and was disappointed to see that she showed no reaction.

There was suddenly the overwhelming feeling of dread—the same as he'd felt in the cemetery and as he'd entered the theatre—only ten times stronger. Sam resisted the desire to call out as he felt the very core of his being longing to flee, as ridiculous as the notion was, seeing as how he was as immobile as a Winchester could get.

Something was coming towards him. The room suddenly seemed to dim and at first Sam thought it was part of his imagination. But as the entire theatre grew darker, he became increasingly anxious. Pausing in his efforts to escape his bonds, he felt his breath growing shallow as he glanced fearfully around the room. He could see nothing approaching, though every instinct within him sensed it.

"No!" He pulled away from what was happening and tried to focus on the physicality of the situation, instead of the spell. As he yanked his right arm backwards again, he caught a waver in her voice. She even went as far as to glance up to his face. He centered his concentration on locking her into his gaze as he raised his eyebrows slightly and spoke, "Please don't. I can help you—my brother and I—we can help you. Please believe me. We'll go right now and we'll help your family—before she can get to them." Sam was aware that he was openly begging, but could not bother himself to feel wrong about it.

Her eerie chant had paused for a moment as Beth continued to look into Sam's face. She seemed dreadful and hopeful at the same time, as if she wanted to believe that Sam could help her, but was unwilling to make such a leap.

As Sam tried to hold her gaze, her eyes grew dark. The sensation that something was attacking him again washed over him and he was forced to throw his head backwards in protest and pain.

He had thought that nothing could top Lilith's torturous invasion of his body, but he'd been mistaken. As his body was once again filled with white-hot pain, he willed his eyes open to discover that an invasive indigo light had taken over the room. It was the most excruciating thing he'd ever experienced and he felt as if his very soul was being torn in half. The light was initially overwhelmingly bright, causing him to blink rapidly as he attempted to stay focused.

Sam was vaguely aware that Beth's voice was still controlling the atmosphere, murmuring just above a whisper. It was obvious, even in her coarse voice, that she was acting against her own beliefs, yet Sam could not pull his essence together enough to talk to her.

_Pull my essence together?_ Sam was distractedly confused by his own thoughts, but he knew what was happening. It hurt like hell—the force of it felt as if it were marring him from the inside out. The light had grown more concentrated as it took on the form of a loose sphere about two feet in front of Sam. It was now an intense shade of violet and Sam understood its purpose. It was pulling it out of him—pulling him away from himself. Sam's mind had found an entirely new stage of panic as he felt his physical body go limp, although the pain was as intense as ever. She had it. Beth was controlling it. The spell was coming to an end and he was terrified that Lilith was going to get exactly what she'd wanted. His power.

_**O O O O O**_

Although his instinct was to barge into the theatre and rush to Sam's aid, Dean took a moment to consider his predicament. His greatest obstacle was Lilith. If she were here, he'd already be in way over his head. If she were actually in the room with Sam, he might as well bend over and kiss his ass good-bye.

The anger rising within Dean at the thought of the fact that someone was hurting Sam threatened to jeopardize his precision as he struggled to stay calm. He took a deep breath, steadying himself by placing a hand on the sturdy brick wall before deciding to try to gain an advantage by viewing the situation before entering it.

He was very pleased to see that the two men had placed a small rock in the threshold to assure that they would not be locked out. He could have broke in had he needed to, but he was glad that he didn't have to. Careful not to make any extra noise, he placed the fingers of his right hand in the crevice between the door and the frame before gently plucking the rock from the threshold.

For a moment, he held his breath; dreading that someone had heard him and would be instantly upon him. Yet as the seconds wore on, it was clear that he was, thus far, undetected.

A tentative sigh escaped him before he blinked and grimaced, inwardly scolding himself for making any noise at all. As strange as it was, he felt oddly elated. He felt his body thriving on the urgency and intensity of the situation. As troubled as he was his brother's well being, he couldn't help but feel that he was on top of his game. He was as good as he would ever be; and he needed to be. That's what drove him the hardest—he _needed_ to be that good. Every sense he possessed was amped to it's fullest as his adrenaline brought his mind into acute focus.

Dean pulled the door open enough to see exactly what he had access to. The exit door was set farther back than the front of the main stage, making it impossible to see Sam. However, this provided him the secrecy he would need to approach the enemy with stealth.

Discovering that he could access the stage from where he now stood without being visible to anyone who may be in the theatre put Dean's new plan into overdrive. Dean closed his eyes and bit his lip, willing his physical grace to avoid making any kind of sound as he pushed the door open and entered.

The curtain was drawn to Dean's left, its trademark crimson making him feel unsettled for reasons he was unwilling to think about, although he reasoned that it could have something to do with the fact that he was sporting the blood of the vampire's he'd just slaughtered outside of the theatre.

_Here goes nothin'_, he thought to himself, welcoming the feeling of anticipation and allowing it to drive him.

**Author's Note:** Thanks so much for reading. Get ready for a bit of a rumble! The next chapter will be up as soon as I get it ready! Reviews speed up the writing process . . . speaking of reviews, a special shout out to MysterioiusRose and Cerri for always reviewing! You two sure know how to make a gal's day! : )


	13. Chapter 13

**Author's Note:** The next chapter! WOOT! Reviews make me feel tingly inside!

**Chapter 13: Rescue . . . ? **

Despite the fact that he felt as if he'd grown unable to move or speak, Sam could have sworn he heard himself mumble, "Mine." He wasn't sure what he was laying claim to, but he was sure he would get no results in doing so. His eyes watched helplessly as they seemed to be the only part of him still involved in this grotesque ritual.

There was only one word left. Sam could feel it—could _see_ it in her eyes as she looked at him, once again fighting tears. All she had to do was speak it. It was strange to see it—the supposed power, dangling in front of his eyes in an eerie purple sparkle. Was that his? Only seconds ago he had claimed it, but he couldn't even begin to rationalize why it had been given to him or what purpose it would serve. As his gaze melted into it, he found himself loving the potential of its existence, yet hating himself for allowing any emotion to address this part of him.

He longed to laugh. He longed to cry. He longed to do anything that qualified as a human emotion. For a moment, he even allowed himself to feel regret. He was sure he was dying. He could feel it being ripped from him. Until now, he wasn't aware that his life force was attached to the power that had been given to him, but now he was able to assess that if he lost it, he would die. He also suspected that it was his choice and was even a bit flabbergasted that he had subconsciously chosen his power over his life.

Reflecting on the proceedings, Sam realized that he had rejected the fact that he had been chosen—had denied the implications of his destiny concerning his future vehemently. He could feel that it would save him now to let it go, but found himself unable to do so. What had he become? What _would_ he become? Questions unanswered—questions that would never be answered. He wanted to reach out to it, to touch what she was stealing from him; but was once again foiled by the rope cruelly holding his hands in place. Wanting to feel more for his life, his mind flew through an explanation, though he was uncertain why he felt obligated to provide it, as no one would ever know it, hear it or care for it.

_I tried. I played this game the best I could; I may have gotten my ass handed to me, but I tried._ Sam felt a bit silly, realizing that the thoughts would never be known, yet he allowed himself to emerge into the façade, _God, it hurts too much to stay. I have to go, Dean. I'm sorry. I have to._

Waiting for her to say it—the last word that would seal his disappointing fate—Sam swallowed, once again regarding the manifestation of his 'power' with a reluctant fondness as he waited for her to take it away.

Although Sam's entire body was unresponsive, he was able to gaze at her—almost drunkenly—as he took in her features. Her face was lined with age and emotion. She had the sort of striking demeanor a fellow may notice at a bar, but a hidden ferocity that would prevent one from actually taking her home. She was contemplating it—the last word. Sam didn't know how he knew, but he could feel that there was only one more utterance needed to detach him from the power he had known so briefly and loved so dear. Just as he thought that he was unable to speak, it escaped him again, one last claim to what she was about to steal, "Mine."

_**O O O O O**_

Dean slinked towards the middle of the stage, treating each step as if it were glass. When he had positioned himself near the center of the stage—what he hoped to be approximately in front of the seat Sam was tied to—he lowered himself to a crouching position and slid his hand underneath the fringe of the curtain.

At first he heard nothing, which enraged and frightened him at the same time, but before even five seconds had passed, Sam's voice broke the relative silence, "Mine."

Sam's voice had settled into a tone Dean had never heard before. It was detached, tortured and—Dean couldn't help but use the word he dreaded—_dying_.

It would have been prudent to assess the situation and at least determine whether or not he was dealing with Lilith; but Dean had heard all he needed to know in the one word he had heard Sam say. He spared no further thought into planning or strategizing. There was only one thought prominent in his mind: _Save Sammy_.

_**O O O O O **_

Sam finally allowed himself to give in as he closed his eyes and waited for it to end. Part of him was still encouraging him to continue an attempted escape, but his physical body refused to obey.

The feeling was subsiding and Sam became sure that he was dying. He even felt the corner of his mouth twitch into a strange smile, somehow grateful that the torture was finally over. As he allowed himself to be swept into nothingness, he was suddenly surprised by the fact that he could still feel. And he _hurt_. His wrists ached from the cruel binds, his feet were sore because he's forgotten his shoes, his cheek throbbed where he'd been physically beaten; and to top all of this pain, his head screamed in a pain that he'd never known.

_That's not right_, he felt the odd sensation of talking to himself. _If I were dead, I wouldn't feel any of that._

Blinking his eyes open, Sam found that he was still tied the a chair in the front row of the theatre. The purple sphere in front of him drifted out of shape, then moved towards him. As fond as he'd grown of the physical representation of his power, he shifted in his seat apprehensively, now attempting to avoid physical contact with it, somehow thinking that it was the action that finally would end his life. It stretched into an oval that was nearly the length of his torso and proceeded to seep into him. He closed his eyes as he felt it falling back into place as if it belonged within him and he welcomed it, unsure of whether or not this was part of the spell, but not caring anymore. It was _his_.

"Does that fix it?" Dean's tentative voice drifted into Sam's mind, and he was aggravated that his eyes were once again closed, "Does it?" A more commanding voice now, yet Sam could tell he was trying very hard not to yell.

"Yes!" Beth's meek voice answered, clearly terrified.

"Sam?" Dean spoke again, his voice full of trepidation, "Sammy, bud? Can you hear me, man?" A hand was suddenly on his shoulder, shaking him gently, but urgently.

_Yes_, Sam tried to answer, but didn't hear his voice. He concentrated all of his strength on opening his eyes and was pleased to finally succeed. Blinking as a blurry world faded into focus, Sam saw that Dean was standing right in front of him with his hand still on Sam's shoulder. His eyes were full of worry and he was pointing a gun at Beth's head. This instantly upset Sam and he forced his voice to escape his reluctant body, "Don't, Dean. She's not—" A violent cough cut his statement short and he longed to reach towards his face, but the ropes were still secure, preventing him from moving his hands, "She's not with them—it's not her fault." He was extremely alarmed at the fact that Dean was in danger of hurting someone who didn't deserve to be harmed, "Lower it."

Reluctantly, Dean complied, and turned his attention to Sam's bonds. He reached towards Sam's right hand, but movement in his peripheral vision caused him to turn back towards Beth, once again raising the gun. She had started for the door, but he couldn't have her exposing the situation, "No, no—stay right where you are. We're not gonna hurt you, but you gotta stay here."

Beth was obviously horrified at the prospect of having a gun aimed at her, "Okay. Okay!" She was starting to panic and her voice had risen in pitch and volume.

"And be quiet!" Dean demanded, glancing fearfully towards the entrance doors.

Instead of saying anything, Beth nodded rapidly.

"Dean," Sam called quietly, still feeling fairly weak, but pleased with the fact that he was recovering from what he had endured. He could feel his strength returning and couldn't help but feel that it had to do with his power. He was somehow using it to revitalize himself and this thought scared and delighted him at the same time.

Once again, Dean turned towards Sam, focusing on his binds. To Sam's surprise, Dean had a machete in his hand and was about to use it to slice through the rope. Sam started to pull at his right wrist again, but Dean's voice stopped him, "Stop movin', Sammy, that makes it harder."

Sam obeyed wordlessly as he threw his head back and sighed, waiting for Dean to cut his arms free. As he lowered his head back to focus, his breath caught in his throat. Ben had entered the theatre through the back exit—where Sam assumed Dean had made his way in.

Hearing the hitch in Sam's breath, Dean hesitated to start sawing at the rope and looked back up into Sam's face worriedly, "You alright?"

"Ben," Sam spoke the name as he jerked his head towards the theatre door, the hated feeling of fear creeping back into his chest.

Ben approached the trio, a gun aimed at Dean, as Dean was the one of the three that presented the biggest threat, "Toss 'em," Ben's features were drawn into a disturbing grin as he stopped five feet away from Dean.

Dean's face fell into a disappointed scowl, utterly frustrated with the arrival of another enemy. He took a moment to look into Sam's eyes urgently, then dropped his eyes to Sam's right wrist suggestively. Finally turning away from Sam and allowing the machete to slide along the rope, Dean understood that he had no choice but to obey the order. He dropped the gun, but didn't 'toss' it as Ben had demanded—he dropped it as near to Sam as he could manage without seeming obvious.

"And the blade," Ben smirked in a way that suggested he considered himself rather clever for having spotted it, even though it was an extremely obvious accessory.

Dean attempted to drop the machete in the same way that he'd dropped the gun, but it bounced awkwardly after hitting the carpet and jetted away from Sam. Beth yelped in surprise as it landed right next to her and regarded its blood-stained blade with disgust.

After Dean looked away, Sam glanced down at his right wrist and was pleased to see that Dean had managed to saw through the first thick rope. He began twisting his wrist around as inconspicuously as he could manage and was relieved to see that Ben seemed entirely preoccupied with Dean.

"Got the drop on our boys out back, I see," Ben started moving forward again, now that Dean was unarmed. Dean glanced at Ben's gun and took a few steps back, passing by Beth, who was still unsure of what was expected of her at this point in the situation.

Dean wouldn't have normally backed off so easily, but the sooner he got Ben away from Sam, the sooner Sam could wriggle out of the partially cut binds on his right wrist.

"Yeah," Dean spoke to make sure that Ben's attention was focused on him instead of Sam, "They were real bright, but I guess I got lucky."

Hearing the sarcasm drip from Dean's words, Ben scowled, "Turn around, asshole. Hands up."

Sam worked feverishly at the binds after Ben had passed his chair. No doubt Ben considered him weak and incapable of escape, but the first rope being cut had given him enough leverage to use his entire arm's strength to struggle with the ropes.

Dean was reluctant to obey this order, fearing that Ben would simply shoot him in the back of the head and drag his body to Lilith proudly. Dean didn't necessary fear his own death, but he couldn't help but nearly panic about Sam's fate if that were to happen. Who could get Sam out of this if he were dead?

This last thought convinced him to turn away from Ben and raise his hands, "Walk towards the door," Ben's voice revealed that he was nearly laughing with satisfaction, "When she sees what I have for her, she's gonna commend me. No more talk about 'Riley this, Riley that'—she'll be tellin' everyone about ME."

Dean walked as slowly as possible, yet trying not to make it obvious that he was stalling, "Pathetic, much?"

Wrenching his right hand forward, Sam finally was able to make the rope unravel. Avoiding making noise, he brought his hand in front of him and started working at the knots on his left wrist. He risked a glance towards Dean and Ben, distressed that they were rounding the front row of the chairs. When he pulled his eyes back towards his hands, he was surprised and alarmed that Beth was now standing right in front of him, holding the machete.

For a moment he only stared at her, fearing her intentions, but it almost instantly became obvious that she didn't plan on using it. She was offering it to him.

Without thinking or causing any more delay, Sam snatched it by the handle and used it to slice through the rope, relieved that he hadn't cut himself and distantly thankful for the instinct that allowed him to act with such accuracy.

Wanting to give Beth a look of appreciation, but understanding that it was the last thing he should be worried about, Sam launched himself out of the hated chair, almost overwhelmed with the feeling to turn and spit on it, though he understood that it was an entirely pointless act. Instead he furtively rushed towards Ben, once again strangely thankful that he'd forgotten his shoes as his bare feet made absolutely no noise on the hard carpet.

Just as Sam reached Ben, he hollered, "Down!" because he was unwilling to take the risk that Ben might pull the trigger in a muscle spasm as his head was severed from his body. Dean immediately dropped as he had anticipated the attack. As Sam swung the blade at Ben's neck, he was surprised and severely disappointed to see Ben twist away and duck, a fraction of a second after Dean.

Sam felt the blade connect with nearly no resistance and was unsure of what he'd accomplished until he straightened up and saw that there was blood streaming down the left side of Ben's face and neck, seeping into his shirt.

Ben still had the gun and struggled to level it at Sam, who was still fairly shocked that Ben had avoided the blade.

"Dammit!" Ben gasped, reaching towards his ear tentatively, "What the _fuck_?"

Sam glanced downwards towards Dean, who was lifting himself back into a standing position. Ben had backed into one of the rows, distancing himself from the Winchester brothers, but keeping his gun trained in their direction.

_Well, that didn't work_, Sam thought regretfully, holding his free hand up in supplication and feeling a little ridiculous for his failed attack.

**Author's Note:** LOVE the reviews, people! Keep 'em comin'! I hope to have another chapter up some time tomorrow!


	14. Chapter 14

**Author's Note:** Here's the next chapter, readers! Thanks so much for stickin' with the story. Get ready for some action in this one. : )

_Ben still had the gun and struggled to level it at Sam, who was still fairly shocked that Ben had avoided the blade._

"_Dammit!" Ben gasped, reaching towards his ear tentatively, "What the _fuck_?"_

_Sam glanced downwards towards Dean, who was lifting himself back into a standing position. Ben had backed into one of the rows, distancing himself from the Winchester brothers, but keeping his gun trained in their direction._

Well, that didn't work_, Sam thought regretfully, holding his free hand up in supplication and feeling a little ridiculous for his failed attack._

**Chapter 14: The Fight**

Throwing a nervous glance towards Sam, Dean shook his head slightly, indicating that they were better off not attacking Ben at the moment. He wanted Ben to move closer to them before he made his move. He didn't think he could get to him before Ben was able to shoot him. It would be close if he tried. Very close.

To Dean's dismay, Ben's look of fury settled on Sam, clearly outraged that Sam had just managed to hack off his left ear. He raised the gun and pointed it at Sam's chest, his finger wrapped tightly around the trigger.

"Whoa," Dean spoke, bringing Ben's attention, and the gun, back in his direction, "You can't shoot him. You need him. Lilith would be pissed." Dean used Ben's obvious devotion to Lilith against Ben, hoping it would be enough to prevent him from shooting Sam in revenge.

Ben let out a hissing breath as he dipped his head, attempting to harness his rage.

"You don't wanna kill Sam. He's the one she wants." Although Dean had not been present for any of Sam's previous torture, he understood that he was not an important part of the puzzle. When Riley had offered him an out at the cemetery, he came to understand that he was more or less expendable. This whole ordeal was about Sam. And from what he'd seen upon entering the theatre in the middle of some whacky witch spell, he could conclude that whatever they were after, Dean didn't have it.

As his eyebrows arched down in disappointment, Ben barred his teeth for a moment, revealing fangs. It was apparent that he had decided to shoot Dean instead because his fury was not satisfied without killing _someone_. Dean grimaced and willed himself not to close his eyes like a coward as he braced himself for the end.

Dean heard Sam yell "NO!" before the report of the gun went off.

Feeling nothing, Dean looked around, bewildered. Three more reports echoed within the theatre, yet Dean still felt no pain. He jerked his head around to find that Beth was holding the gun that Dean had left near the chairs for Sam, still pointing it where Ben had stood. Her face suggested that she was barely aware that she had done anything.

Ben stumbled backwards and had to grasp one of the theatre chair armrests to prevent falling to the floor completely.

Sam wasted no time in rushing Ben, machete at the ready. As Sam swung it towards his head, Ben blocked the blow, then rammed Sam's arm into the back of the seat. Sam called out in pain and was unable to keep his grasp on the machete. It flew out of his hand into the next row of chairs.

Feeling Dean leaning towards them, Sam concentrated on the gun in Ben's hand. He grasped Ben's wrist with both of his hands and slammed it into the ground as hard as he could. Ben again grunted and the third time his hand hit the floor, he finally released his hold on the gun.

"The machete!" Sam yelled.

Dean took the hint and pulled back from the fight to enter the next row and recover the blade. Just as he bent low to get it, another gunshot echoed within the theatre.

"SAM!?" Dean was instantly terrified that Sam had been shot, but when he stood up to see what had happened, he was extremely disappointed to see that two more vampires had entered the theatre. Upon seeing them, Dean again fell to the floor, somehow feeling ridiculously like a cartoon character, popping into view, then disappearing again.

"Sammy, there's two more!" Dean yelled, wanting Sam to be aware of the newcomers.

As the two new vampires ran into the theatre, Dean shifted himself and wedged his body under the next chair. He bit his lip to prevent himself from crying out in pain as the movement made his bruised ribs feel as if they were on fire. He went under two chairs before he was free of them. Risking a glance over the chairs, he saw that the two vampires had passed the row in which Sam and Ben's fight was taking place, clearly expecting to discover Dean in the next one. Dean couldn't help but smirk as both vampires went from vicious to puzzled faces in less than a second when they saw that Dean was not in the aisle they had seen him duck into. They looked around alarmingly before continuing cautiously towards the front of the theatre.

Sam wasn't exactly winning his fight with Ben, but he wasn't losing either. The fight was more like a series of body slamming as both men tried to ram the other into the nearest chair with as much force as possible. Since Ben was obviously stronger, Sam wasn't able to inflict as much pain on him as he'd have liked to.

Dean waited until he could see the first vampire's gun before he acted. He propelled himself forward, kicking the hand holding the gun and spinning back around to sweep the machete through the air, with the sort of instinct any hunter would kill for. He was satisfied with the sickening sloshing sound of the blade slicing through flesh and knew he had successfully decapitated the vampire.

The second vampire was taken off guard for a moment and Dean immediately took advantage of it. He swung the machete at the vampire, who blocked it with the automatic weapon and wrenched Dean's arm away from him. Dean twisted the blade upward and sideways, making it impossible for the vampire to hold onto his gun. Both weapons flew onto the stage as if they were part of some abstract play. Dean scoffed, subconsciously amused by the fact that his machete and the nameless vampire's gun were both out of reach.

Dean used a moment to shout towards Sam, fulfilling his need to know that Sam was still fighting, "Sam?"

To Dean's great relief, Sam answered almost instantly, "FUCK!"

_Well, that pretty much sums it up_, Dean thought with little enthusiasm. He was glad to hear Sam speak at all, but had wanted a more encouraging answer than that.

He inwardly sighed as he lunged towards the remaining beast.

An ugly sneer took over Ben's face as he grabbed Sam's neck with his left hand, causing Sam to gasp in surprise and pain. The pressure on his windpipe was so intense that he found himself unable to even cough. Ben then shoved his forearm upwards, into Sam's stomach, flinging him into the row of chairs again.

Sam tried to cry out in physical anguish as he felt the muscles in his back spasm from the collision, but Ben's hold on his throat made it impossible for any noise to escape him. Ben wasted no time in using his strength to shove Sam's body downwards, immediately gaining the straddling position. It only took a moment for him to see and retrieve the gun while keeping his left hand clamped on Sam's neck. Sam was struggling with all he had, trying to push Ben's arm and body away, but the vampire was too strong. Once Ben had the gun, he flashed it in front of Sam's face, enjoying the look of fear that it instantly caused.

As Ben allowed Sam to see that he had gained the gun, Sam's breath caught in his chest. He watched the gun fearfully, but was still preoccupied by the fact that his air supply was being disrupted by Ben's hand. Ben finally drew his hand away and Sam's body convulsed as he coughed briefly. _Air!_ However, his relief was fleeting. To Sam's dismay, Ben bought the gun downward and shoved it into the junction between Sam's jaw and neck, "Stop moving."

Sam felt as if there were no choice but to obey as he opened his fists and pressed the backs of his hands to the carpet, "Okay—okay." He choked the words out, still suffering from Ben's assault on his neck.

Ben leaned in, making Sam believe that his life was about to end, power or not, "You cut off my fucking ear!" Ben's anger was evident as he pressed the gun harder into Sam's skin.

Sam couldn't help but feel as if he'd failed in not severing Ben's head to begin with. Ben shifted his weight and used Sam's shirt to pull him off of the floor. Sam flailed an arm towards Ben, but Ben swatted it away with ease and pressed the gun to Sam's temple. Sam ceased all movement immediately.

Ben grinned in satisfaction, "Dean!"

Dean had somehow managed to get the upperhand with remaining vampire and was currently drawing back to throw a vicious blow into his face, but Ben's voice pulled him away. As he glanced towards the noise, he was terrified to see that Ben had his gun pressed to Sam's temple. The vampire he'd been fighting, whom Sam recognized as Max, wasted no time in taking advantage of the situation. Max kicked a stunned Dean in the stomach, causing Dean unimaginable pain as he collapsed onto his back. He gasped and sputtered, longing to see Sam and make sure that he was okay.

Dean didn't have to bring himself to his feet because Max was already there, yanking him up by his bicep. His eyes immediately searched for Sam.

"Max, go get her," Ben ordered, "Why the fuck isn't she here?"

Max offered a slight shrug as he shoved Dean into the front part of the stage. Again, Dean's ribs protested in pain, but he was able to keep his feet.

"Don't," Dean raised one hand up in front of him as he placed the other on the stage to keep his balance, "Don't hurt him."

As if to mock Dean, Ben drew the gun back and used it to clock Sam on the back of the head. Sam grunted in surprise and started to stagger to the side, but Ben grabbed him by the shirt again and shoved him into the main aisle, "Get over there, asshole."

Sam struggled not to fall as his unsteady legs stumbled down the slanted aisle. Ben followed about five feet behind him, gun trained at his head. As Sam reached the front of the theatre, Dean grasped his shoulder, "Are you okay?"

Sam, who was much more worried about Dean, nodded, "Are you? You look like hell."

Dean was still looking over Sam with concern in his eyes, "Yeah, had a tussle with our favorite vampire."

Sam glanced at Ben apprehensively, willing himself not to stare at the gun, then turned back towards Dean, "Riley?"

"Yeah."

After giving Dean a quick once over, Sam glanced around the theatre, desperately trying to think of a way to escape before Lilith entered the room. The very thought of her threatened to cloud his mind with panic, as he feared that he would be tied to the hated chair and once again tortured by her efforts to gain his power. As he glanced towards the chair, he saw that Beth was lying face-down in the floor.

Sam instinctively started towards her, but the shot of a gun stopped him as Ben fired a warning shot that missed Sam by less than a foot and entered the wood of the theatre stage instead.

Jumping at the sound of the shot, Sam instantly raised his hands and turned back towards Ben, "I just wanna see if she's alright."

"Don't move," Ben said through clenched teeth, "I know there's a gun over there. She fuckin' shot me with it!"

Feeling slight pressure on his right arm, Sam looked down to see that Dean was pulling him back towards him, as if he didn't want Sam to be more that a few feet away from him.

Ben moved forward, careful to keep the gun aimed at the brothers as he neared the front row of chairs and made his way to Beth. Sam knew there was going to be a moment when they could jump him if they timed it perfectly. He glanced at Dean to see if Dean was up for it, then flicked his eyes towards the machete on the stage. It would be a stretch, but Sam was fairly certain he could jump far enough to reach it. The fact that he was 6'4" would certainly help. Sometimes he felt self-conscious about his height—usually when Dean was teasing him about it—but sometimes it paid to be unusual.

Dean nodded, the plan formed within their minds. As Ben rounded the front row of chairs, Dean stepped slightly in front of Sam, pushing him behind him so that they had essentially switched positions. To Ben, it would seem as if Dean were merely being protective—and Dean had to admit he did feel better being between the psychotic vampire and his little brother.

Ben kept his eyes trained on the brothers until he reached Beth. To Dean's distress, there was an area of the carpet that had become a darker red than the rest as Beth's blood seeped into it. It appeared as if she'd been shot somewhere in the stomach. Dean brought his adrenaline to focus, forcing himself to ignore the ach in his ribs and head. He loaded his weight, trying not to change his demeanor and tip Ben off.

As Ben bent down to retrieve Dean's gun from Beth's limp hand, Dean sprung forward, using every muscle he could utilize to produce speed. Ben had only glanced away from Dean for a fraction of a second, but that was all it took to startle him. Ben leaned back slightly and fired the gun, missing the side of Dean's stomach by inches. Dean collided with him before he could get another shot off.

They crashed to the ground on the other side of Beth's limp body. Once they hit, Dean reached for the gun as Ben was attempting to get it between their bodies so he could shoot Dean. Dean found Ben's gun hand and grabbed it with both of his, knowing that all he had to do was avoid getting shot until Sam reached them with the machete.

Ben struggled to point the gun at Dean's head. To Dean's dismay, he was managing it slowly. Dean tried to push it away, but it was now pointed only an inch to the right side of his head and was beginning to shake with the effort that both men were expelling to shove it in opposite directions.

As soon as Sam sensed Dean's movement, he turned and launched himself forward and upward, grasping wildly for the machete. On the first attempt his hand slapped it, but he was unable to grasp it, as the blade was the part nearest to him. As his hand slid back, it pulled the machete two inches closer, making it possible for Sam to grasp it easily on his second try. He tossed it up, flipping the handle towards him and caught it easily as he approached Dean and Ben.

Ben pulled the trigger, even though the gun wasn't quite pointed at Dean's head yet. The shot seemed to explode within Dean's ear, which instantly began to ring. "Sammy!" He called, wondering what the hell was taking him so long.

Dean's cry for help made Ben aware that he had entirely neglected the younger brother, and he suddenly wondered why Sam hadn't joined his brother's fight. He turned his head back towards Sam. The last thing Ben ever saw was the glint of steel reflecting off of the bloody blade that had already been used to kill two of his comrades. Ben's face was full of utter shock as his head fell to the floor. His body was motionless for a brief moment before it lurched forward, towards Dean.

**Author's Note:** Thanks for reading. Reviews are extremely appreciated and I answer them all!!


	15. Chapter 15

**Author's Note: **Good day, Saltgunners! Since I slacked off yesterday and didn't post a chapter, I posted more in this chapter than I had intended. Enjoy!! :)

_**Previously:**_

_The last thing Ben ever saw was the glint of steel reflecting off of the bloody blade that had already been used to kill two of his comrades. Ben's face was full of utter shock as his head fell to the floor. His body was motionless for a brief moment before it lurched forward, towards Dean._

**Chapter 15: The Flight**

Dean gasped and shoved it to the side, sickened by the blood that was pouring from Ben's neck. He shoved himself backwards, leaning against the nearest theatre chair. Dean looked down to see that his hands were covered in Ben's blood and hurriedly wiped them onto his jeans. A terrifying thought suddenly occurred to him, "Sam, is there any on my face—close to my mouth?"

Sam was glaring at Ben, but was pulled from his hateful stare by Dean's voice. He looked at Dean, puzzled for a moment, before realizing that he was asking if there was a chance he'd gotten any of Ben's blood in his mouth. Sam carefully scanned Dean's face to conclude that the only blood on it had been there when he'd entered the theatre and was most likely his own.

"No, I don't think so," Sam finally answered as he moved forward, offering a hand to help Dean to his feet.

"Abby," A whisper came from the floor and Sam realized Beth was speaking. He hurriedly dropped to one knee and gently rolled her body so that she was facing upwards. Her eyes seemed all over the room and it was obvious that she was having a hard time keeping them open, "Save Abby."

The next breath caught in her throat as her body hitched weakly. Her eye lids drooped down one last time as her last breath seeped from her mouth.

"Oh, my God," Sam spoke without thinking, suddenly putting the pieces together. He had felt as if he'd somehow recognized Beth and hadn't been able to pinpoint what it was about her that seemed so familiar. As she had whispered the name 'Abby' through her dying lips, Sam suddenly had a revelation. Beth reminded him of the woman in his vision. She was not the same woman—of that he was positive—but he now felt certain that Beth was related to the woman that discovered Abby missing in his vision.

As Sam looked up towards Dean, astounded at his realization, Dean glanced towards the theatre doors, "Come on, man. We gotta go."

Preoccupied with this newfound realization, Sam allowed himself to be pulled to his feet and hustled towards the back exit. He took a moment to glance over his shoulder to see that Max had entered the room, followed by another vampire that Sam had only seen once as they'd been brought into the building. Max stopped for a moment, puzzled, before his eyes found Dean and Sam. He raised the gun, but seemed reluctant to fire because to do so would risk Sam's ever-precious life and, more importantly, his power.

Dean reached the door first, pushing it open and allowing Sam to sprint into the alley first. In less than a second, they had both fled the theatre. Sam waited for a brief second, allowing Dean to take the lead because he had no idea where the impala was parked. Once Dean took off, Sam joined his side.

As they neared the sidewalk, one of the vampires appeared around the corner of the theatre. He had apparently been ordered to cover the other side of the building, causing Dean to slow slightly. Without any hesitation or spare thoughts, Sam reared back as he ran, holding the machete as if it were a baseball bat. The vampire was barely able to deduct his intentions before Sam had executed the movement, swinging the machete forward without even breaking stride.

The revolting sound of the blade slicing through tissue was a memory to Sam by the time the head hit the cement of the alley.

Dean couldn't help but glance at Sam and holler a thoroughly impressed, "Holy fuck!"

Feeling quite as thrilled as Dean, Sam allowed himself a smirk and bemused that it probably resembled Dean's usual expression after doing something that made him extremely satisfied with himself.

As they neared the car, Sam hesitated, once again being overtaken by the feeling that something was here—something was waiting for him in that car—something evil. Before he knew he had done it, he had stopped ten feet away from the impala.

Dean rounded the front of the car, resisting the ridiculous urge to attempt a hood-slide and reached for the handle of the driver's side door. As he glanced upward to observe Sam's progress, he was disappointed to see that Sam had stopped moving all together. What was more, Max had already exited the theatre, followed closely by the other vampire. To Dean's distracted relief, Lilith was still nowhere to be found.

"SAM!"

Sam blinked and brought his eyes to meet Dean's. The open fear in Sam's eyes somewhat disturbed Dean, "Don't get in! There's something in there!"

These words made absolutely no sense to Dean as he yanked his door open, "Get your ass in the car!"

"Dean, stop!" Sam was clearly panicking, "I _feel_ it—"

Dean suddenly understood what was going on. Sam could sense Riley in the trunk, just as Riley had explained in the cemetery. Sam could _feel_ Riley. As he turned his head once more towards the alley, Dean was distressed to see that Max had exited the alley and was closing in on them, though it would still be foolish of him to start shooting, risking hitting Sam.

"Sam, look at me!" Dean knew of nothing else to do. They had less than a few seconds before Max closed in, blowing Dean to high heaven and taking Sam back to the theatre to endure God knew what.

Sam felt his entire body longing to continue running down the street; to enter the nearest building—anything but enter the impala, but the raw desperation of Dean's voice made him look at his brother.

When Sam's eyes found his, Dean only had time for one phrase. He used the one he thought would get the quickest result, "I _know_, but _t__rust__ me!_ GET IN!"

Sam spent less than a second contemplating the issue of trust before continuing his rush towards the impala. As they piled in, Dean thrust the key into the ignition and screeched away from the curb, Max's unsatisfied scowl following them.

Dean knew they'd be running to their cars now, trying to chase the Winchesters on wheels, but in that department, they didn't have a chance. Dean allowed himself a small grin as he punched his foot down, watching the dolts in his rearview mirror looking on in anger.

**_O O O O O_**

Riley was surprised to feel the trunk dip down as someone hastily entered the car. He honestly hadn't expected either Winchester brother to survive whatever they had just encountered and found himself grudgingly grateful that they had. Before he could stop himself from thinking it, he hoped that Dean was in the car.

The last thing he wanted was to be distracted from his struggle for freedom. He had stripped his belt off and ripped the clasp apart, using two of the slender metal pieces to pick at his locks. He had freed his left hand but was still working at picking the cuff on his right wrist, thoroughly annoyed that he could not see and knowing that the ability to see the manacle would have allowed him to escape long ago.

Although the need to escape was Riley's first desire, he forced his energy into focus, using his power to assess the situation. He sensed Sam immediately, his essence nearly tangible from the passenger seat. Riley had to concentrate much harder to sense someone who was not chosen, but he felt the driver's energy register momentarily. Riley's blood tingled in recognition, revealing to him that Dean was present within the car. He could sense no one else, so he returned his attention to the problematic shackles, working to free his right wrist and trying not to think about how long it would take to get both of his legs free as well.

**_O O O O O_**

Sam had settled his hand on the door handle of the car, resisting the need to jump out of it. He felt it—something was in the car; something that didn't belong there; something that meant him harm.

"Dean, please," Sam couldn't help speaking of the torturous desire to abandon the impala. He knew Riley had told Dean of his newfound ability to sense danger, but didn't think Dean realized how intense it was, "We gotta stop—something's in here."

For the first time since they'd stormed away from the theatre in a fury of rubber and rage, Dean looked over at Sam and observed that he had his fingers wrapped around the handle, contemplating exiting the car. Sam also appeared to be on the verge of vomiting, "Whoa, buddy," Dean felt the desire to stop the car as Sam had requested, but he knew that the number one priority was to get away from Lilith and her cronies as fast as possible, "I know what you're feeling."

Uncharacteristically, Sam scoffed and brought his eyes to Dean's disbelievingly. _I doubt you have any idea what it feels like, big brother._

Dean rushed into explanation mode, "Riley told me that you can feel them—when you're near them, you feel like you should run—or whatever," he was aware that his explanation was not college speech class material.

"I know," Sam answered, in a somewhat shaky voice, "I was there when he told you."

"Right," Dean hadn't known how long Sam had been in the cemetery before he'd made himself known, "Riley's in the trunk, man. That's why you feel it."

"What?" Sam took a deep breath as he looked back towards Dean, dumbfounded and still fighting his instinct to bail out of the car, "Do we need him?"

This question troubled Dean, as it meant one of two things. Either Sam wanted to get rid of Riley, or he wanted Riley to be killed. The former was obviously not an option, as they couldn't very well let a vampire go free to kill innocent people. But Dean wasn't sure he could handle the ladder of the two options, so he decided to stall on this particular subject, "I don't know."

Even in Sam's distracted state, he was able to see that the last thing Dean wanted to discuss was his childhood friend-turned-vampire, so he moved on to the next troubling issue.

"Beth," Sam spoke the name with regret, clearly upset that she had been killed by crossfire as Sam and Dean had fought for their lives, "I know why I felt like I knew her."

Since Dean had been unaware of the fact that Sam had any such thought, he raised his eyebrows and glanced towards Sam, waiting for an explanation.

"She reminded me of the woman in my vision. The woman in the doorway," As Sam took in Dean's skeptical look, he added hastily, "It wasn't her, but she looked a lot like her—except for the hair. The woman in the vision had dark hair—Beth's was red."

"Was she Abby's mom?" Dean offered.

"I don't know," Sam honestly had no idea as to how Beth may have been related, "It's all a mess. I saw Abby getting kidnapped and I saw a woman come into the room who resembled Beth." Sam glanced out the window, aggravated by the fact that his visions often left him with enough information to stew over, but not enough to act on, "It's just so—" Sam still felt the overwhelming urge to desert the car and he forced himself to take a deep breath as he tried to bring his thoughts to words.

"Are you okay?" Dean was somewhat surprised at the candidness of his voice, openly asking Sam if he was able to deal with the situation.

To Dean's relief, Sam offered a tentative smile full of false dimples as he continued to fight the desire to exit the car despite the fact that it was traveling at nearly 90 miles per hour down the highway. After the false reassuring smile, Sam closed his eyes and took a deep breath before he was able to pull his hand away from the door. As he opened his eyes, he focused on the rearview mirror for a moment, "I don't think they're following us."

Dean threw a glance into the rearview, immediately concluding that they were not being followed. The right side of his mouth twitched up, smirking, as he raised an eyebrow, attempting to produce the nonchalant attitude that Sam probably expected, "Poor bastards," Dean couldn't help but give his baby more gas as he listened to her roar, "Never had a chance."

"Yeah," Sam gave Dean a look that suggested he expected Dean to pat himself on the back.

"Okay, so who could she be?" Dean glanced towards Sam, bringing the conversation back to focus.

Sam was still fidgety and seemed to be putting great effort into resisting the need to again grasp the door handle, "She has to be related or something. We gotta find out what her name was—and track down her family." Sam's mind spun with the possibilities as he considered Beth's plea, asking them to 'Save Abby'. "We have to find them and help them. If Lilith goes after them because Beth failed at—" Sam's voice caught in his throat, remembering what Beth had been expected to do and not being able to shake the returning horror of what had almost been done to him. He did his best not to reveal to Dean just how deeply he'd been affected by what had happened in the theatre, but Dean caught the brief hesitation.

"We'll figure it out," Dean's voice remained calm as he paused and gave Sam another long, concerned look.

Sam could feel that Dean was clearly aware that he wasn't sharing his full experience with him—and probably never would.

Dean finally spoke, finding it impossible to avoid asking, "What'd she do to you?"

Sam grimaced physically, not expecting the question. He tried to think of a way to answer the question that wouldn't cause Dean to become extremely angry, but found himself nearly unable to explain it, "She wanted it—my power," he let that statement hang in the air for a moment, hearing Dean's sigh and knowing that Dean wanted more information, "She tried to—" Sam's voice broke as he was involuntarily reminded of the feeling of invasion and unimaginable pain as Lilith had tried to separate his power from his being. Instead of addressing these details because he knew Dean would likely become livid, Sam skipped to the most important part, "She couldn't do it herself, so she had Beth perform a spell. That's when you showed up."

Dean was fully aware that Sam wasn't telling him nearly every detail, but he didn't need every detail at this point. He wanted to _make_ Sam tell him what had happened; he wanted to know what they'd done to him and longed to punish them for it, but right now they had bigger things to worry about. The last thing Dean wanted to do was cause Sam to be more frightened and even though he had no idea what had occurred, he could feel Sam's terror at the mere mention of Lilith.

"Okay, we'll start with Beth, then," Dean furrowed his brow and put every effort into appearing calmer than he felt, "When we find out what connection she has to Abby, we can save her."

Sam seemed to be lost for a moment, contemplating the torture he had endured. As Dean spoke, his eyes flicked away from the dash, finally finding Dean's face and registering his words, "Yeah."

Suddenly the back end of the car rocked, nearly making Dean swerve in surprise.

To Dean's surprise, Sam spoke first, "Riley."

Dean nodded, trying not to reveal his feelings towards his old friend, but he should have known better. Sam read Dean instantly.

"Should we stop?"

Dean glanced towards the rearview mirror. Even though he knew that they were not being followed, his instinct was to assume that he was mistaken and operate on the most elevated level of alert.

"In the next town," Dean finally answered affirmatively.

Sam could feel that there was something happening between Riley and Dean that he did not know nor understand, but he allowed the moment to pass. He couldn't very well scold Dean for keeping all his feelings to himself when Sam was not revealing even half of the torture he'd suffered.

As if Dean had read Sam's thoughts, his gaze again returned to his baby brother, repeating the hated question, "Are you okay, Sam?"

As much as he'd have liked to avoid Dean's question, Sam felt oddly vulnerable. He could still feel the aftermath of what had occurred. Although he was unable to control his power, he felt a new connection to it. It was part of him and although he doubted he'd ever be able to explain it to Dean, he now somehow felt as if he deserved it—maybe even as though he had earned it—although this notion was ridiculous.

"I'm a little out of it—shit went down," Sam grimaced at these words, knowing it would make Dean want to know exactly what kind of shit had gone down. He went on before Dean could interject, "But I'm alright. I just wanna figure out the vision and help the little girl." As Sam reflected on what had happened, he couldn't help but regard Dean with something like awe, "Thanks." It was only one word, but both of them knew it meant much more. If Dean hadn't shown up when he did, Sam would have died because of the spell. He wasn't sure if Dean knew that detail of the spell, but he was thanking him for saving his life; for taking care of his little brother.

Dean gave Sam a swift and slightly puzzled glance before answering, "Yeah."

Sam could feel that there was more to come and nearly made the mistake of laughing before he was expected to—something that annoyed the hell out of Dean.

Dean smirked as he continued, "You shoulda known I'd turn up to save your bitch ass."

Sam allowed himself to grin, before letting his gaze drift away from Dean. He let his eyes settle on the passenger window, watching the seemingly endless rows of corn flash by his vision.

**Author's Note:** Thanks for reading! Please feel free to review! I will hopefully have a new chapter posted by Monday. Hope you all are having a lovely weekend!


	16. Chapter 16

**Author's Note: **Hello, readers. Things take a bit of a twist in this chapter. So _please_ review!

**Chapter 16: Wild Card**

After settling into a rather cheap motel, Dean paced the length of the room, contemplating their options, "Should we try to find her—the little girl?"

Sam sat on the edge of one of the beds, "I don't know. Do you think she'll care about Beth's family now that Beth is dead?"

Flinging his hands upwards, clearly frustrated, Dean answered, "That's what I just asked you, dude."

Annoyed by the fact that their conversation was very obviously going nowhere, Sam spoke, "I think we should check it out. If they come for her and we're not there—" Sam stopped, letting the troublesome statement sink in, knowing that if Abby were to come to any harm on their watch, they'd be forever regretful.

"But what's the point now?" Dean spun on his toe and paced back towards the bathroom, "They don't need her—Beth is dead."

Sam flinched at these words, still hurt by the fact that he had been unable to save Beth—someone who had merely been at the wrong place at the wrong time. He also felt a deeper connection to her because of the fact that she had been forced to do something horrible in the name of saving her family. The Winchesters could relate to that.

"We gotta at least find the place and make sure everything's alright," Sam retorted, "You didn't talk to her, man. She's—" Sam stopped, unable to describe Lilith and why he was still worried for Abby. "That family may need our help—and there's no way of knowing that the kidnapping still won't happen."

"Riley's in my trunk, Sam," Dean rationalized the situation, "He's not gonna kidnap the kid."

"_He's_ not," Sam grimaced and fought the need to lower his head into his hands, "But what if they still come for her? Dean, I can't live with that."

As Dean paced back towards the other side of the room, Sam thrust his arm forward, forcing Dean to stop his constant movement. "Sit down."

"What?"

"We should wrap it."

"Sammy—"

"Dude, your face is screaming 'pain' every time you take a step. Let's wrap it up." Sam said, referring to Dean's bruised ribs.

Dean, who was extremely annoyed at Sam's ability to read him, stopped pacing for the moment and turned to face Sam, "We gotta figure out who she is." Dean was surprised to find that he was slightly slurring his words and suddenly felt extremely tired. He was a little annoyed by the fact that Sam had seen his exhaustion before he had felt it. It really wasn't a surprise since he'd been up and running since 3:30 that morning and although this wasn't necessarily uncommon given his inability to sleep through the night, today had been a particularly rough day so far.

Sam smiled reassuringly, "We will. Let's wrap you up though, man. You look like you had a run-in with Mike Tyson."

Stopping his constant movement, Dean felt himself physically failing. He allowed his body to collapse onto the bed closest to the door, subconsciously wanting to place himself between the door and Sam in case anyone—or anything—entered the room.

His body wanted nothing more than to rest and his mind was unable to keep it working on pure spite anymore. Dean smirked at Sam's words, preparing a somewhat weak comeback, "I could so take him. Ben's the one that lost an ear," he felt his face distort into a lazy smile at this, wondering if Sam even knew about the fact that Mike Tyson had bit a piece of Evander Holyfield's ear off—he was often slow with references. Feeling as if he needed to somehow emphasize the havoc he'd survived during the day, Dean added groggily, "I killed three vampires today." At the end of the sentence, Dean scoffed, allowing himself drift into the welcoming emptiness of unconsciousness, as he felt Sam's hands gently lowering him downward.

Sam sighed, half-smiling, knowing that Dean probably didn't expect him to get his latest pop culture reference. As he lowered Dean onto the bed, Sam assessed his brother's physical condition. He wasn't completely incapacitated, but he had sustained some troublesome injuries. Dean's midsection looked like it had been worked over by the none other than Mike Tyson, just as Sam had expected. Sam knew that he'd have to go to the car to retrieve the first aid kit. Dean's ribs needed a firm wrapping, not to mention the fact that his eyebrow could probably use a butterfly band-aid.

After briefly examining Dean, Sam turned towards the motel door, pocketing one of the keys as he inched the door open cautiously before approaching the car.

As Sam approached the impala, he was puzzled to find that the feeling of dread was not nearly as intense as it had been when they had left the car earlier. He had practically run from it as they had parked in front of their room. Although he could still feel it, it wasn't nearly as intrusive, which he was somehow grateful for, but it also worried him because he didn't know what it meant.

Shaking these thoughts, he opened the passenger door to continue the business of retrieving the first aid kit.

**_O O O O O_**

Riley grunted loudly, working on the manacle that trapped his left leg. It was the last thing preventing him from escaping. He was entirely unaware of his location, which made it impossible to determine whether or not barging out of the trunk was a wise decision.

Suddenly feeling a nag at his senses, he allowed himself to submerge into the feeling, willing it to come to focus. The initial sensation was green and Riley easily concluded that Sam had approached the impala.

To Riley's immense satisfaction the last lock offered a soft click as it gave way. The smile he displayed was lost to the darkness, though it would have gave any witness goose bumps.

Taking stock, Riley realized that his only weapon was the very chain he'd come to hate in the last couple hours. The ones that had been placed on his wrists were connected to the inside of the trunk. However, the shackles that had been clasped around his ankles hadn't been attached to anything within the trunk.

He positioned his body perpendicular to the bumper and placed his feet in the center of the trunk. Wanting to wait long enough to time it correctly, yet knowing that his time was wearing thin, Riley thrust his legs upward, satisfied by the crack of the breaking latch. He spun out of the trunk, meaning to overtake Sam, who he could feel was somewhere near the rear of the car.

At first he was disoriented as light invaded his vision. Riley put all of his energy into not shielding his eyes as he pivoted his attention towards the right side of the car, knowing that Sam had opened the passenger door. Since the only weapon he had was the chains, Riley swung them in front of him, hoping to intimidate.

Sam straightened up immediately, with more haste than Riley would have expected. Although he bumped into the open door of the impala in fear, he managed to sidle around it hastily, even having the nerve to use it as a shield.

"Sam," Riley would normally have used a form of psychological babble to approach an adversary as intelligent as Sam, but he found it impossible to prevent himself from being completely candid.

Sam had felt every sense in his body heighten as Riley had exited the trunk. His instinct was to run back to the room, but he knew doing so would reveal where Dean's unconscious body lie. He was unarmed and completely vulnerable. If Riley chose, he could simply attack Sam and have him out cold in less than a minute.

Although it pained him to even consider the word, Sam heard it escape him in the form of a breath that was quieter than a whisper, "Please."

Riley's mouth slanted, providing a smirk, "What." It was not a question, but a demand, "What are you asking for?"

There was a note in Riley's voice that somehow gave Sam hope. If he hadn't been interested in an answer, he'd have never asked the question. But Sam knew there was likely only one answer that would qualify as correct. Glancing in all directions and realizing that the motel was unusually unattended for the middle of the afternoon, Sam back-peddled until he was near the front bumper of the impala.

Sam was completely unarmed and now scolded himself for allowing such a thing to happen. He should have anticipated an escape. He should have known it was a possibility. Yet he stood now, terrified, the likelihood of the proceedings being that he would be dragged back to Lilith and forced to endure more incredible torture—only it would be different this time. He knew what was coming; and he couldn't withstand it a second time.

Swallowing as he looked into Riley's eyes, Sam finally answered the question, "I can't."

_What is he talking about? _Riley's mind was alert, knowing that any wrong move could cause him to be overtaken by the troublesome Winchesters, "You can't?"

Sam seemed relieved that Riley hadn't already closed in, "I can't go back. I can't take it again. She—" Sam found it bizarre that he was telling Lilith's most trusted vampire more than he'd told his own bother, "She _invaded_ me. I wanted to die when she did it. I'd die before I let her do it again. So if you try to take me—I won't go alive."

Riley blinked, nearly overcome with the sense of familiarity of that feeling. He'd only been Lilith's bitch all those years because he had known nothing else. She had found him and persuaded him to be a vampire, but everything else seemed to have gotten too heavy too fast. He wanted out. He didn't want to be some pivotal part of the apocalypse. He just wanted to live. And the same phrase had been running through his mind since he'd become involved with Sam and Dean, _I can't go back._

"Listen," Riley took a heavy breath and glanced towards the nearest door, noticing that Sam physically reacted, which concluded that Dean was in that room, "I could kill you three ways without hardly trying right now." This was true. Riley had already assessed the surroundings, situation and possible weapons within the area.

Sam arched his eyebrows fearfully, unsure of what Riley's intentions were at stating such a fact. He longed to allow another plea to escape his lips, but forced himself to merely wait for Riley to continue.

"We'll go back to the motel room and figure things out." Riley knew his voice sounded shaky, but he had just made a huge decision. He had chosen to defy Lilith, which would most likely end in a very painful death. That's all he had seen from others who had done the same.

Sam's face fell into bafflement, before he was able to speak, "No."

Suddenly feeling indignant, Riley raised his eyebrows, "No?"

Although Sam's demeanor clearly revealed that he was almost swimming in terror, he continued, "I won't tell you where he is."

Sam was unable to ignore the fact that his instinct to abandon the area had continued to subside. Whatever feeling he had developed to sense something that meant him harm had either faded or Riley was actually telling the truth.

Riley wasn't entirely sure what his intentions were, but he knew he'd be better off if he had both Winchesters at his disposal and he wanted to get inside; away from the hated sun. Feeling he had no other option, he started towards Sam as he lifted his hands, brandishing the chain menacingly. "Sam, you know you don't stand a chance."

Using all of his will power to resist backing away from the impala, which somehow felt like a safe zone, Sam could only continue to gaze fearfully at Riley, "Maybe I don't." He looked over his shoulder, longing for some kind of interference and knowing that it would not come, "But that doesn't mean I can't try—that I _won't_ try."

Surprising both himself and Sam, Riley stopped advancing on Sam. That last statement seemed to have meant something to Riley and he couldn't help but stare at Sam as he stopped advancing.

Sam had just spoken the very feeling Riley coveted, but now felt was within his reach. He envied the balls it took to fight something so large—so evil. He had been chosen by the devil _and_ turned into a vampire. One could say he's been given the shitty hand all around. He now recognized that he'd been weak. He had chosen to hide from his ability by isolating himself. However, he'd been offered a way to roll with it, instead of fight it. And he'd taken that path, obliviously pleased with the fact that it contained much less resistance. Yet Sam's words hooked into his soul, _"But that doesn't mean I can't try—that I won't try."_ Riley had never even considered fighting it—the evil that had found him. He felt something rising within him—yearning to make itself known. He couldn't explain it—especially not to a couple of of men that considered him an enemy, but he was suddenly elated. He was gonna hand Lilith her ass. And he was gonna smile while he did it.

As Riley worked through all of this, Sam positively squirmed with anticipation as he waited for Riley to answer his statement. Something in Riley's eyes had changed and Sam noticed that his ability to sense danger continued to fade.

"I know which room he's in," Riley spoke without taking his eyes away from Sam, "That's my gift. I can sense where people are if I concentrate. It was kinda lame at first. I could only sense family members and people I was really close to if I really concentrated. But since I became a vampire, I can sense almost anyone, if they're anywhere near me."

Sam stood stock still, understanding that if Riley was telling the truth, he could sense Dean. And if he could sense him, he could barge into the room in which Dean slept before Sam could even get near the situation. Seemingly reading Sam's thoughts, Riley approached the motel. Although Sam interpreted this as a threat, Riley was merely moving under the overhang to shade his skin from the sun.

Somehow feeling compelled to impress Sam, Riley went on, " I can sense all sorts of things. I sensed you in the park—your essence—because you had seen it in your vision." Riley felt his eyes widen as his teeth flared in a satisfied smile. He was aware that he was scaring Sam, but felt that he needed to, "And I can sense your fear, Sam. It affects your aura."

Sam couldn't help but dread what was to happen next. Riley had not harmed him yet, but the possibilities were endless. He couldn't imagine being handed over to Lilith, yet he couldn't imagine what other intentions Riley might have.

"Okay," Sam said a neutral word first, eyeing Riley's reaction. When Riley simply arched an eyebrow and waited for more, Sam decided to provide it, "What do you want?"

Riley smiled eerily before tossing his head from one side to the other in an aggressive sort of headshake, "I don't care what you think I want. Right now I'm in charge and you know it. You can't run fast enough to escape me, and you can't move fast enough to stop me. You have nothing to lose but your brother—and you know I could take him away in an instant."

At these words, Sam instinctively moved forward and was slightly surprised that Riley did not react to this.

Riley spoke again, "Go ahead, Sam. Go back to the room. But I'm coming too."

Sam spent another moment contemplating and was still unable to nonchalantly lead Riley into the room in which Dean was sleeping, "Which room?" He had to be sure that Riley knew the room number before he gave it away.

Riley smirked in an approving sort of way before answering, "159."

"I know you're not trustworthy at all," Sam glanced towards the chains that Riley had prepared as weapons, "But I gotta hear you say it."

"Say what?"

"I know it's ridiculous and your intentions are probably to slaughter us as soon as we get into the room, but give me your word that you won't. At least give me the satisfaction of knowing that you will have betrayed your word if you do it."

"Sam, I coulda murdered you both already if I'd wanted to. You know that."

Sam's nostrils flared in irritation, "Say it."

Riley rolled his eyes and blinked before bringing his attention back to Sam, "I don't even have to do this because I could snap your neck and toss you into the dumpster right now, but I give you my word, I won't hurt you."

Sam raised an eyebrow, indicating that he expected more from Riley. After an instant, Riley knew what was needed, "Or Dean."

Sam stood for a moment, apprehensive about producing any movement, before drifting towards room 159. Riley still held the chains, probably anticipating an attack and Sam couldn't say that he blamed him. He was still actively trying to establish a plan to overtake Riley in order to somehow render him helpless. However, he couldn't ignore the fact that he didn't feel Riley's presence as intensely as he had before. Riley's essence had changed.

Suddenly realizing that he had came outside for a reason, Sam stuttered in his stride and started back towards the impala. Riley was immediately on guard, "What the fuck?"

Sam glanced towards Riley, flashing a somewhat cocky grin. He knew it may be unwise, but Dean's demeanor inspired him whenever he was in the most dire of situations, "I need the first aid kit. It's what I came out for." The sound of his voice was flat and blank.

Riley considered this for a moment, before nodding, "If you come outta there with a blade—"

"I just need the first aid kit," Sam cut Riley off, now somehow enjoying the fact that Riley seemed to be nearly as on edge as Sam was. He ducked into the back seat, finally grasping the handle of the first aid kit, and pulled it out from under the seat.

Sam did his best to grin arrogantly as he started towards room 159. However Riley was suddenly blocking his path, causing the smirk to slide off of Sam's face. He stopped and even took a step back, uneasy about what Riley was playing at.

"I know you hate me. I know you'll do whatever you can to hurt or kill me. I know that there are weapons in there," Riley's eyes flicked towards the door of the motel room, "When we go in, you walk in and stand right by the fuckin' door. We clear?"

Sam considered this. He hadn't intended on putting extra effort into killing Riley, but he knew that he would if the opportunity came along. He'd taken the machete into the room earlier so that they would have protection if any of Lilith's vampires were to find them. It was lying on the bed farthest from the door, where Sam had been sitting as Dean had paced the room only ten minutes before and Sam knew he'd never reach it in time to use it against Riley.

Sam somehow felt as if he should be attacking Riley instead of leading him into the room, but with his new connection to his power, he found that he also trusted it. Attacking Riley would risk his life and if Riley killed or disabled him, Dean would be completely vulnerable as he was most likely still unconscious. Letting the situation play out seemed to be the best way to attempt to survive this most recent development.

"We're clear." Sam agreed not to actively attempt to kill Riley upon entering the room, although it would probably serve them best to do so. "But—" Sam couldn't help but ask one more question as the feeling of foreboding had subsided so much that he could hardly feel it anymore, "What's your play by doing this? What are you gonna do, and what's in it for you?"

Riley didn't answer immediately and Sam swallowed, now somehow regretting asking the question in the first place.

After considering the question for a moment, Riley's face fell into satisfaction, having found the response he'd been searching for, "I'm gonna be your wild card."

**Author's Note:** I don't know if you guys saw this coming with Riley, but stick with me. More becomes clear in the next chapter. Please feel free to comment!! :) As always, thanks for reading!


	17. Chapter 17

**Author's Note: **Here's the next chapter! Please review!

**Chapter 17: Playtime Before Dinner**

Max and Wayne, the vampire that had followed Max during the brief chase outside the theatre, rushed to their cars, intending to follow the Winchesters. However, by the time they had stormed out of the parking lot, the impala was nowhere to be found. After speeding recklessly throughout the area for fifteen minutes, they decided it was best to return for orders.

Trudging back towards the theatre, both men had the feeling of doom about them. They were going to have to tell Lilith that they had failed.

Max entered the theatre first, joining two other vampires in the front lobby, "Is she back yet?"

"No," one of them answered as he flicked his eyes around the room nervously.

"She didn't even say where she was going?" Max asked the shifty eyed vampire, as he had been the only one that she'd even bothered to inform of her departure.

"She just said she was going outside to play. I didn't know it meant she was _leaving_."

As Max opened his mouth to respond, the theatre door swung open causing him to turn swiftly and see that it was Lilith. Her purple dress was now splattered with blood, as well as her hands and the left side of her face. The image was grotesque and by the smell of it, Max easily deducted that it was human blood.

Lilith smiled sweetly as she strode into the room, "Sorry I had to go. I was a bit angry and had to take out some of my frustration before it caused me to kill my precious Sam." She spoke of Sam as if he were her favorite pet. "Is the spell over yet?"

Max swallowed and glanced towards Wayne, "Not exactly."

Lilith's eyebrows drew in as her bottom jaw thrust forward, pouting. She whined, "How much longer?"

Fighting the desire to simply run out of the theatre, Max continued, "They escaped."

Lilth cocked her head to the side and blinked slowly as her eyes grew in size, "They what?" Her voice was still as calm and sweet as ever.

"They got away—Dean came back and overtook Beth while she was alone with Sam. He cut Sam's ropes and they ran out the back." Max intentionally neglected to mention that there had been an actual fight within the theatre.

Lilith's nostrils flared and her forehead wrinkled in rage. She eyed them all for a moment before breathing deeply and pressing her hands down her dress, as if she were straightening it. Once she'd calmed herself, her face slid into childlike disappointment, "Where's Riley?"

Knowing that he would now have to give her more disappointing news, Max took a deep breath before answering, "We think he might be dead. Dean came in the impala, so . . ." He trailed off, not having to finish the sentence for Lilith to understand that Dean had most likely killed Riley.

This was especially bad news because Riley had would have easly found the Winchesters. His abilities allowed him to sense where Sam was if he were within a hundred miles of the theatre—which they most likely still were.

Max also knew that Riley had the ability to feel Lilith as well, which he could choose to open to her. When Riley had begun serving Lilith, he had allowed her to use his own power to connect her to his mind. However, as Max understood it, Riley could close that door any time he wanted, although he was too terrified to do so. Lilith would assume he was hiding something if he ever blocked her from his mind.

Trying to be helpful, Max suggested, "Can you try to reach him?"

Lilith looked at him as if he were the slow boy in class that couldn't read, "I just did."

"Of course," Max let a nervous laugh escape him as he continued to stare at Lilith in fear.

"We'll find them. Riley felt Sam at the park where Abby was—I entered his mind while he was there. That means that Sam was there and he knows about the girl," Lilith walked towards the concession area, letting out a long breath and cranking her neck to one side, then the other, "They'll go there." As she reached the counter, she spun on her heel, facing the others, "They won't leave her. They're too—" Lilith paused, eyeing each vampire in the room and knowing that the next word would arouse them, "_Sweet_."

After a moment that seemed to last an eternity, Lilith strolled back towards the middle of the room, placing herself in the center of the four vampires. She clicked her tongue before giggling briefly, making Max's skin crawl, "So we'll start with her." To everyone's surprise, Lilith was remaining irregularly calm under the circumstances, "Incidentally, did Beth escape?"

Max shook his head, knowing that he was delivering yet more bad news, "No, she's dead."

"Hm," Lilith paused for a moment before speaking again in a tone that a child would use to discuss a new toy, "I'll have to get another witch."

Max started to smile in relief, but before his lips had barely twitched, his head exploded unexpectedly, causing several of the other vampires to jump. Wayne instinctively threw his arm in front of his face at the unnatural _popping_ sound that it made, and was extremely disturbed to find brain matter on his sleeve as he brought it back down. Max's body didn't fall immediately, surreally resembling something out of a horror film. Then all at once, the joints in his lifeless body buckled and he collapsed into a muddled, bloody heap on the already crimson carpet.

Lilith sighed prissily and was now absolutely caked in blood, as she had been standing closest to Max and had not bothered to shield herself. She closed her eyes briefly, revealing that the only part of her face that was not splattered in blood was her eyelids, confirming that she had not bothered to even blink as she had caused Max's head to burst. After a long, tense moment, Lilith licked her blood-spattered lips, "I didn't like him. He kept telling me bad things."

**_O O O O O_**

Upon entering the room, Sam had stood next to the door as he'd been instructed and waited while Riley searched the room for weapons. The only two weapons to be found were the machete and the gun from Dean's waistband, as the brothers hadn't even brought in either of their bags. After accomplishing this, Riley walked to the small desk that was in the opposite corner from the door and sat on it, using the chair as a footrest.

"Satisfied?" Sam asked, irked by the fact that Riley was making himself at home in their motel room.

Riley nodded his head towards Dean, giving Sam the okay to see to his wounds.

After Sam had taken care of Dean, he stood and stared at Riley, feeling utterly uncomfortable with the entire situation. He couldn't help but eye the machete, which Riley had placed on the table next to him.

"I'm hungry," Riley spoke first.

Sam's eyes widened and he glanced down at Dean, fearing for his brother's life, "Don't."

Riley's eyebrows arched in confusion for a moment before he realized what Sam was afraid of. He scoffed and even had the audacity to appear offended, "I'm not gonna— shit, you're stupid."

The insult caught Sam off guard, but he was glad to hear that the implication of Riley's statement meant that he did not intend to harm Dean, "What then?"

"I need you to—you know, go get me some—"

"Oh, fuck, no!" Sam threw his arms up and backed away from Riley until his back hit the wall.

"Relax." Despite the fact that his hunger produced a serious problem, Riley didn't allow his voice to exceed the volume of mild conversation, "I don't need human blood. I'll settle for cattle—but not pig's blood—that shit's awful."

Sam dropped his arms but continued to stare at Riley in revulsion. "_You_ go."

Riley frowned at Sam for a moment before deciding to entertain this idea, "Well, it is a good way to test our newfound friendship."

Sam scoffed unbelievingly, "What friendship?"

"Alright, maybe friendship isn't the right word—how about 'alliance'?" Jumping off of the table, Riley started towards Sam. If Sam weren't already pressed to the wall, he'd have taken another step back, "You seem to put a lot of stock into one's _word_, yeah?"

Sam swallowed, unsure of where Riley was going with this, "I guess."

"Give me your word that you won't leave this motel room while I'm gone," Riley smirked as if he was playing some sort of game, "And I'll go get my own dinner."

Pulling his eyes away from Riley's, Sam glanced down at Dean. He knew he couldn't leave Riley and Dean alone, especially while Dean was unconscious, but giving Riley his word that he would stay in the motel room and simply wait for him to get back? That was insane.

Riley glanced suggestively at the shackles he'd tossed onto the bed, "I don't have to do it this way. I could make sure that neither of you could leave—there's another set of those beauties in the trunk—I'd know."

"You won't do that," Sam answered, not entirely sure as to whether he was calling a bluff or provoking Riley into using them, "You want me to trust you."

Blinking, Riley seemed amused, "You're smarter than you look." His face suddenly became serious, seeing that Sam was not persuaded by his offer, "Look, Sam, you can believe me or you can assume I'm a lunatic who's playing some sort of fucked up game with you two," he nodded his head towards Dean, "I don't have to explain my reasons to you, but I wanna bring the bitch down. And from what I've seen, you are the only two people I've ever met who may have a chance at doing that."

Sam searched Riley's eyes for any implication that he was being false, finally coming to a decision and hoping it wouldn't be the one that got him and Dean killed, "Alright."

"Alright, what?"

"I swear I won't leave while you're gone," Sam felt somehow defeated, but he knew there was really no sense in refusing to give his word. If he did, Riley could ensure that they would be _unable_ to leave the room.

Riley examined Sam, seemingly trying to decipher if Sam was telling the truth. Finally satisfied with Sam's answer, he moved to the door, causing Sam to take a step away from it. Riley wasn't overly concerned about Sam's honesty, seeing as how if he decided to defy his word and leave, Riley would sense him moving. Preoccupied and displeased by the idea that he was about to enter the sunlight, Riley reached for the doorknob.

"Not a person," Sam said before Riley had exited, "Please."

Riley understood immediately that Sam was asking him not to kill a human in order to provide his meal. He was taken aback for a moment at the fact that Sam was concerned about something so disconnected from his own well being, seeing as how he was already clearly afraid for his life and the life of his brother.

It amused and impressed him that Sam had requested this, "Okay," he answered in what sounded like a nonchalant tone, although he fully intended to honor this agreement.

Sam blinked and frowned, clearly not believing that Riley was serious.

"I give you my _word_," Riley nodded in a more sincere manner before opening the door and exiting the room, knowing that Sam was watching after him with a speechless expression on his face.

**Author's Note:** Thanks for reading, friends. I may not post for a few days because I am headed out of town again for the last softball tournament of the year! I will _try_ to post another chapter tomorrow, then I'm off for the weekend. As always, feel free to review; I reply to them all! : ) Have a great weekend, Saltgunners!


	18. Chapter 18

**Author's Note: **Hope you all had a great weekend! Here's the next chapter! : )

**Chapter 18: Waking and Dealing**

Sam took a deep breath, stood and started for the door for the third time in the last thirty minutes. The plan was fully developed within his mind. He would open the door, return to Dean's unconscious body and somehow make his way to the office. Once there, he'd simply call a taxi and manage to feed the clerk a false story concerning Dean's unconsciousness and appearance. He could even explain away the fact that he was shoeless. She'd buy it. They always did after he gave them the look that Dean so enjoyed making fun of him for.

After the taxi arrived, Sam would pay him—everything he had, if that's what it took—to speed them away from this area and this situation.

It was a decent plan. It was the best one he could think of, but this plan didn't account for something very important: the supernatural. Sam's entire life revolved around the fact that there were unexplainable things dwelling in corners that most people would never explore. He couldn't help but reflect that if they were in a normal situation, with a normal enemy, his plan would work; and that really pissed him off. However, he had to account for the fact that Riley would most likely sense them if they were to leave—the supernatural aspect of their current dilemma.

Unlike Dean, Sam had come to know the sort of normalcy that the majority of the people live; day in, day out. He knew what it was like to experience a life where everything made sense and logic was reliable.

For a moment, Sam's memories flooded his mind. Going to college had been an intense culture shock. Although he'd been extremely adaptable, he had never been disillusioned enough to assume that he had belonged in such an environment. But he'd made it his job—his new job—to fit in, to become part of the world that had been taken away from him. He had emerged himself into it unquestioningly, striving to be a part of something that most young people desired.

It hadn't been as much of an adjustment to fall back into the life of a hunter, but it had taken a fair amount of tolerability and commitment. Although he would have liked to imagine that he had become unfamiliar with the world that he had resented, he had been surprised at how easily he'd resumed hunting by Dean's side. Despite himself, he couldn't help but feel that it had seemed _right_.

Nearly scoffing with dark amusement, Sam stopped as his fingers wrapped around the doorknob, once again bringing his plan to a halt. Everything within him seemed heavy and fluttery at the same time. The need to stay and the need to leave were of almost equal desire within him. He was annoyed because he wasn't simply escaping, thinking that it somehow made him weak.

A voice surfaced within his thoughts, _What if he really can help? You have to admit, he's quite a substantial weapon against Lilith._ Sam frowned at this, knowing that Riley would indeed be useful—if he came through. Dean already thought him foolish for considering working with Ruby. What would he say to this? _But you could use him, _The voice pressed on_, If he really wants to bring the bitch down, he might be your best shot._

Suddenly wishing that Dean were awake to act rashly and hustle him out of the room without a moment's consideration of whether or not Riley could help, Sam glanced towards his unconscious brother. Dean wouldn't even have considered staying and trusting anything Riley had said. They'd be out the door and on their way—

_And caught_, the voice within him interrupted, _If he wanted to, he'd have you caught within the hour. He'd sense you moving._

Sam considered the plan once more, forcing the bothersome voice away and concentrating all of his energy into his odds. _Zero_, Sam sighed, letting his sweaty hand fall from the handle. _The odds of escape are zero_.

Understanding that he was practically putting his future into the hands of the man that had threatened to take it away less than twelve hours ago, Sam was suddenly nearly livid with anger. He hated feeling like this—like he was someone that could be taken advantage of. Was that becoming his M.O.? His weakness? These thoughts were so overwhelmingly frustrating that he felt the resentment rise in his chest, causing him to physically react. He glanced once more towards Dean's unconscious figure before slamming his fist into the wall. The fiery pain that stung his fist and jolted up his arm was secondary to the mental ferocity that he was trying to tame. Sighing, Sam pulled his fist back out of the dry wall. Examining and flexing his hand, he was able to determine that he hadn't broken anything, but the pain lingered on irritatingly.

The decision he'd come to had made him angrier than he'd felt in a long time, but he forced himself to stop contemplating. The choice he'd made was final. He wasn't going anywhere. He'd be true to his word and true to his instincts; and hope that it served him well.

Sam wanted to yell it. He wanted someone—_everyone_—to hear it. But in the end, it was little more than a defeated whisper as he leaned forward and rested his forehead against the door, "Fuck."

_**O O O O O**_

Dean could feel himself drifting closer to consciousness, sensing it, yet incapable of controlling it yet. There were guns, blood, pain, screaming, fear, light, dark; and the most prominent feeling of all: red. The entire essence was an angry, fiery red.

_Wake up, man_. Dean's own voice invaded his thoughts. _Something's going down and you're missing it._

Dean could feel his eyes swim beneath his eyelids as he fought the desire to drift back below the veil of oblivion.

A world danced before his eyes, frame after frame. Past and present melting into each other as if they'd never been apart, forcing Dean to ponder which was which.

Emerged within a dream world, Dean's mind seemed somehow elevated by a new idea. _It was a dream_. _You aren't going to go to hell. It was something out of a bad horror film. You'll wake up, you'll discover that you just got yourself clocked during a job, and you'll keep fighting by Sam's side. There's nothing to be afraid of._

Knowing somewhere within his mind that all of the reassurances uttered by his subconscious were false, Dean concentrated on control. _Pull me out_, Dean's mind demanded of his body.

"Ugh," Dean was relieved to hear his own voice, delving at his consciousness, "Up."

"Dean?" Sam's voice approached, "You awake, man?"

Dean's vision teased him as his eyes struggled to remain open, "Bitch?" He heard the word after he'd spoken it and wondered vaguely if it had been his voice.

He was immediately relieved to hear Sam chuckle and answer, "Jerk."

Dean was finally able to pull himself into awareness, feeling more helpless than he was used to. As he blinked his eyes open, he immediately saw Sam approaching him. His body felt heavy with dread as he realized that everything was real. He was hell bound and there was no amount of dreaming or wishful thinking that would benefit his situation. With a sinking heart, he brought his head up towards Sam.

Sam's face was full of concern as he leaned towards Dean's waking figure, "Sammy, get off."

Dean thrust his left hand upward, unintentionally connecting with Sam's arm. As his consciousness surfaced, he felt a smile creep onto his face, "Heya, bro."

Dean's mind was suddenly alight with everything that had occurred. His lazy smile disappeared and his body hitched with effort as he attempted to straighten up.

"What's—is it?" Aware that the murmur had made no sense, Dean continued his attempt to become coherent.

Sam waited patiently for Dean to surface into full consciousness as Dean stubbornly forced his body back into compliance. He finally pulled himself into a sitting position and immediately searched for Sam, who was sitting on the other bed facing him and sporting an uncharacteristically amused expression.

"Hey, Evander," Sam felt the need to rush into an explanation about Riley, but decided to start with something lighthearted as he allowed Dean enough time to adjust to his surroundings.

Dean chuckled at Sam's words, clearly impressed, "You got it." By 'it' Dean meant the reference he'd provided earlier concerning Mike Tyson and Evander Holyfield. "Hey, man, I still got both my ears."

Dean spent a moment sitting on the edge of the bed, fully aware that Sam was watching him carefully. After a brief moment, he stood, surprised by the fact that his ribs didn't scream in protest. Reaching towards his midsection, he was reluctantly pleased to find that Sam had wrapped the area.

"We gotta talk," Sam spoke, disrupting Dean's peace.

"Oh, Sammy," Dean offered his trademark smirk as he turned towards Sam, "Don't be such a downer."

"Riley escaped," Sam revealed, regretful that he had to break it to Dean so bluntly, yet knowing that he needed such frankness to help Dean focus on the conversation.

Dean's resistant body suddenly stuttered into use, ignoring the pain and instability, "No." Dean didn't want to believe this statement for many reasons; two were most prominent in his mind. First of all, the fact that Riley was loose meant that he had the potential to harm Sam. Secondly, a _free_ Riley was one he'd have to kill.

"He's—" Sam stopped, unsure of how to explain to Dean what had transpired, "He's not with Lilith anymore."

"What?" Dean had already gained his feet and started for the window. He pulled the curtain back momentarily, surveying the parking lot, immediately aware that the impala was gone, "Son of a bitch!" He yelled louder than he'd intended and had to take a deep breath to calm himself, "Where'd he go?"

Sam sighed, half amused by the discussion they were about to have, "To get dinner."

Dean tilted his head, "Dinner?"

Sam took a deep breath before beginning the difficult part of the conversation, "He's coming back."

Dean had been striding back towards the bed, but these words stopped him short, "Coming back _here_?"

There was a knock on the door, startling both brothers.

Sam started towards the door, but Dean stopped him by thrusting his arm towards Sam's torso.

"Sam, it's me!" Riley's voice called in what seemed like a casual tone.

Sam's eyes flicked to Dean and he knew that he was entirely unable to explain to him what had transpired while he'd been unconscious. He pushed Dean's arm away as he reasoned, "When we were running to the car as we left the theatre—when I stopped and you told me to trust you. I don't think you knew it, but that feeling was so intense, you were the only one that could have made me betray it—and I did."

Dean glanced towards the door, clearly distressed by the fact that Riley was on the other side of it, capable of hurting his brother. He turned his attention back towards Sam, eyeing him questioningly.

"Trust me, Dean," Sam knew how insane it must seem to Dean to even consider allowing Riley to enter the room, but he knew of no alternative. He didn't necessarily want to work with Riley, but he'd already considered his options.

The knock came again at the door, slightly more urgent and annoyed, "Sam, open the damn door." The voice was generally agitated, "It's bright out here—it _hurts_."

"I'm comin'," Sam called towards the door, his eyes still searching Dean's, waiting for his older brother's reaction. Sam again mouthed the words, 'Trust me.'

Dean gave Sam the look that suggested he was acting against his own instincts for his brother's sake, "Okay," Dean moved towards the door, wanting to keep himself between Riley and Sam.

Sam considered rushing to the door, knowing that he had been the one who had made a connection with Riley earlier that day. However, he knew Dean would not allow him to be the one opening the door for a vampire.

Dean twisted the bolt free of the latch, making it accessible to Riley, before thrusting his body backwards, ensuring that Sam was behind him. Riley walked in as Dean back-peddled, absentmindedly reaching for a gun that wasn't in his waistband anymore and knowing that a mere firearm would do no good.

Riley was taken aback that Dean had opened the door instead of Sam. He held the machete in his right hand and a bag from McDonald's in his left, which Dean eyed longingly despite the urgency of the situation. Lingering in the doorway for a moment, Riley's grip tightened around the handle of the machete, remembering how Dean had nearly decapitated him with it.

Dean spoke as he continued the backwards movement, "Riley, what the fuck do you think you're doing?"

Riley made a show of exhibiting an innocent face. A part of him was playful enough to make Dean talk—to force him to reveal exactly what he thought about the situation, "What do you mean, Dean?"

Dean continued to shuffle Sam backwards until Sam's back hit the wall across from the motel door. Dean stayed two feet in front of him, "Don't do this."

_Just what do you think I'm doing, Dean?_ Riley was still contemplating several different outcomes to the current situation, but was fairly certain he meant the Winchesters no harm. More had changed in the last few hours than he'd have ever considered possible. Despite the fact that he was trying to gain trust, Riley couldn't help but feel the need to pry into Dean's mind. Both of his connections to Dean—the childhood friendship and today's troublesome alliance—were somehow entwining into one. Riley somehow felt the need to explore Dean's feelings to ensure that things played out to his favor.

"What exactly do you think I'm doing?"

"If you hurt him—"

"Dean," Sam wished he were able to project all he'd experienced with Riley into Dean's mind, but knew that explaining was as close as he was going to get to it, "He wants to bring Lilith down."

Riley was overly aware that he was terrifying Dean by simply being in the same room as Sam. He still remembered the summer he'd met Dean Winchester, as it had been dwelling in the back of his mind since this whole ordeal had begun. Dean had told him many times that his only duty was to protect Sam. The most important thing in his life—the only thing he'd ever been committed to—was to make sure that Sam was safe.

Riley finally spoke the words that he hoped would make the most influence with Dean, "I won't hurt him, Dean."

"I can't think of anything you can say to me that would make me believe you. You're a vampire—a monster—I _will_ kill you," Dean's entire body was shaking with intensity as he glared at Riley.

Riley licked his lips and glanced towards the floor, unsure of what to say. Instead of saying anything immediately, he decided his next move. He knew it might be the last move he ever made, but he could care less. He was a dead man, or rather vampire; of that he was sure. If the Winchesters didn't finish him off, Lilith would likely have his head on a platter by nightfall. But he had found something to fight for. To his chagrin, it had come from Sam. Sam had also been damned as an infant, but had taken an entirely different road—he was fighting it—something that Riley didn't think was possible until seeing Sam again so early that morning. As he brought his eyes back towards Dean, he found that Dean was still glowering at him and most likely resisting the instinct to attack him, weapons or not.

"Fine," Riley finally stepped into the room, closing the door softly behind him, "I know there's nothing I can _say_. But there's something I can _do_."

Sam longed to say something, but he was still unable to trust Riley, which meant standing up for him would seem more than a little foolish. He watched as Riley set the McDonald's bag on the bed nearest to the door and approached the middle of the room, machete still firmly in his grip. Both Winchesters tensed and Dean even pressed backwards until Sam could feel his heartbeat thundering in alarm. However, to both boys' surprise, Riley tossed the machete to the floor so that it was now only three feet in front of Dean. He then stepped back and dropped to his knees.

Dean immediately moved forward, although Sam was initially shocked and even feared that it was some sort of trick, "Dean, don't."

As Dean approached the machete, his eyes remained trained on Riley. He expected an attack, yet was unable to resist making a try for the blade, despite the fact that he half expected retaliation. He was at a loss to what had occurred while he'd been out of commission, but he knew that whatever was happening, he wanted the upper hand.

Aware that this may be his last moment on earth, Riley looked into Dean's eyes and was surprised to feel his mouth curved into what he assumed was a disturbing smile, "It was good knowing you."

"Wish I could say the same," Dean answered, the sting in his ribs reminding him why he was about to kill one of the only friends he'd ever had. As he brought the blade towards his shoulder, he rationalized that Riley wasn't the child he'd known. Riley was no longer the kid on the swing-set, mocking him to pump harder with his legs. He was no longer the kid riding next to him on his bike, making him thrive to peddle faster. He was no longer Riley. He was no longer his friend. Was he?

These complicated thoughts were invading Dean's mind. He tossed a glance over his shoulder to see that Sam remained pressed against the wall, unwilling to contribute to the proceedings. As Dean approached him, Riley held Dean's gaze for another moment before dropping his eyes to the floor, "I could help you, Dean. But if you're gonna do it, do it now. If you won't let me bring the bitch down, take me out."

To Sam's horror, Dean swung the machete back and thrust it forward towards Riley's neck. Riley made no move to stop it and just before it made contact, Dean expertly froze every muscle in his body as the blade came to rest on Riley's neck.

It'd been a test. Dean had anticipated Riley to block the blade and take him down. When Riley made no aggressive movement, despite the fact that Dean was about to end his life, Dean had bought his attack to a sudden halt. He wasn't sure what Riley was offering or even if he was interested, but the fact that he'd willingly allowed Dean a chance to take his eternal life to prove he was ready to deal meant something.

"Know that I could have," Dean seethed, "Know that I will if you hurt my brother. You know me, Riley. If anything happens to him, I won't be stopped by bullets, blades or fangs. I'll kill you."

Riley's eyes flashed towards Sam, understanding the threat, "I know."

Dean pulled the blade away from Riley's neck, satisfied with the results of his attack.

"Okay," Dean backed away from Riley's kneeling figure, breathing deeply to allow the adrenaline rush to subside. "What can you do?"

**Author's Note:** As always, thanks for reading!! I hope you all are still enjoying the story. : ) Feel free to leave reviews, comments, suggestions and thoughts! I love to hear them!


	19. Chapter 19

**Author's Note:** So sorry for the delay in updating, fellow Saltgunners! I've been busy out of my mind lately with weddings and a new job. This chapter is longer than most of them because of the delay! Enjoy and review!

_**Previously:**_

"_Okay," Dean backed away from Riley's kneeling figure, breathing deeply to allow the adrenaline rush to subside. "What can you do?"_

**Chapter 19: Collaboration**

Riley breathed a deep sigh of relief. It was obvious that he had fully expected Dean to end his existence in the last moment. Placing his hands on the floor, he paused for a moment and breathed deeply before putting effort into standing and stepping away from Dean, "I can sense her."

"Lilith?" Sam surprised himself by asking instantly, grimacing as he used her name.

"No," Riley's eyes skimmed over the brothers, "Abby."

Sam and Dean shared a significant glance before Sam spoke, "Where is she?"

Sam expected more games from Riley, but was surprised when Riley spoke immediately, "20 miles back—close to the highway that you used to get here."

Dean raised an eyebrow at this, convincing Riley to continue, "I felt her as we passed. And if I really concentrated right now, I could feel her from here—but why are you worried about her? You should be concentrating on bringing Lilith down before she finds you and kills you both."

The three men were situated in a peculiar manner. Sam and Dean had taken to sitting on the edge of the beds, while Riley had decided to merely lean against the wall across the room from Dean. Dean still held the machete in his lap, making sure that Riley understood he was ready to use it if the situation took any kind of unfavorable turn.

"You want us to help you fight Lilith, we gotta save the girl first," Dean's voice revealed that he was irritated, bordering anger.

Riley leaned away from the wall and was not surprised by the fact that Dean wrapped his fingers around the machete handle, "Forget the girl; let's take Lilith on and she won't have time to get to her."

"No," Sam shook his head, sensing Dean's frustration and wanting to take control of the situation before it escalated, "Listen."

To Sam's surprise, both men stopped glaring at each other and turned attentive faces his way as he went on, "We _have_ to go there first, Riley. It's what we do. All we have to do is make sure everything is alright there. Then we'll get back to business. You're in on all of it, or you're not in on any of it."

Riley spared another hard glare towards Dean before finally answering grudgingly, "Fine."

"Alright," Sam pursed his lips, wanting to cover his bases before he formulated a plan, "We'll go and make sure that they're okay, and we'll get them to leave the house—tell them to go to a motel for a few days."

"McCormick," Riley suddenly spoke.

"What?"

"McCormick," Riley repeated, "Its the girl's last name. The mom's name is Amy. We can call and tell them to leave if you guys refuse to just forget about her."

"What the hell are we gonna say? 'Hello, Mrs. McCormick, we need you to leave your house for a few days because a psychotic Anti-Christ wanna be and her army of vampires are coming for you.'?" Dean blurted out sarcastically.

"She knows me," Riley seemed to be irritated by the fact that they were wasting their time on useless humans, which was beginning to set Dean's teeth on edge, "I've dealt with her because Beth was her sister. Amy didn't know exactly what was going on, but she knew it was something heavy. If I tell her something went wrong and she needs to leave, she will."

Sam mulled this over for a moment, biting the inside of his lip and staring at the ugly 'not-really-any-color' carpet, "Okay, we can do that. But we're still goin' there—to make sure she listened to you and make sure she's not already. . ." Sam trailed off, unwilling to use the word 'dead', because that would mean that they had failed.

"Are you serious?" Riley rolled his eyes in frustration.

Sam reasoned with him, knowing that his intention was to take Lilith head on and also knowing that there was a chance she would be there, "It might be the easiest way to find Lilith."

Giving Sam an incredulous look, Riley responded, "I can _feel_ her. I don't need to figure out where she's going to be—I know where she _is_."

Sam sighed in anger, "We're going to that house. That's final. You keep your demon radar thingy focused and tell us if we're getting anywhere near her."

Riley snorted at this and Sam was surprised that he somehow looked offended, "You keep your demon evil feeling thingy focused too, asshole."

"Stop it, ya' buncha middle school girls." Dean seemed unable to let his eyes wonder away from Riley, still not willing to trust him completely. Sam and Dean exchanged a glare that Sam was aware was extremely juvenile as Dean continued, "So we're going. Should we go now?"

"Sun's gonna set soon," Sam responded tilting his head towards Riley, "He'll be more useful in the dark.

"So will _they_," Dean answered instantly, speaking of the vampires that were working for Lilith.

"He's the most valuable weapon we have," Sam retorted.

"I'm right here," Riley spoke, once again leaning forward, "You jerks don't have to talk about me like I'm a tool."

"You are," Sam and Dean answered in unison before Sam continued, "Let's wait until dark; get our shit together and form a plan."

Dean and Riley shared a look that they'd often shared as children. They both wanted to go off half-cocked, but levelheaded Sam was there to pull them back and make them think. He'd always had a habit of that.

"Alright," Dean finally answered for himself and Riley, "We'll wait."

**_O O O O O_**

As the light faded softly into the inevitable evening, the curtains seemed to deepen in color. Riley was visibly uncomfortable until the sun had kissed this side of sphere goodbye until morning. Riley had made the phone call to Amy to tell her to flee her home. Amy had reacted with surprise and annoyance, but had agreed to do so.

Riley and the Winchesters were still treading rather thin ice, but now that an agreement had been made, it was easier to focus on the future, instead of the present—or the past.

"Alright," having been restless for the last two hours, Dean initiated the action, "We should go."

Riley and Sam stood and followed Dean as Riley spoke, "Hey Deano, can I drive?"

Dean tossed a scornful glare over his shoulder, "Don't call me that."

Sparing a look over his shoulder, Sam was surprised to see a somewhat goofy smirk on Riley's face. There was still an air of uneasiness about the trio, but all parties had come to an unspoken agreement. They had to work together if they were to have any hope at escaping the situation alive. The objective was to defeat Lilith, but all three knew that the likely outcome of the situation would be death for all three of them.

Trying not to be obvious about the seating arrangements, Sam allowed Riley to fold himself into the passenger seat as he got in the back seat on the driver's side. Since Sam was now in possession of the machete, any betrayal or aggressive act would be foreseen and controlled. Riley was well aware of the logistics of the situation and did not react.

After nearly twenty minutes on the highway, Riley spoke from the passenger seat, knowing that they were very near where he'd felt Abby before. He couldn't feel her at the moment, but he also wasn't focused on Abby. He was keeping tabs on Lilith's essence, which was about fifty miles away, "Take a left here."

As the impala drifted around the corner, Sam had the intense feeling of déjà vu. They were traveling down a long driveway with a shelterbelt on the left side. It was certainly the driveway in Sam's vision.

Dean turned his eyes towards Riley, "Do you feel anything?"

Riley shook his head before explaining, "I'm only focused on Her and Abby—I can't feel Abby at all, but Lilith is about fifty miles away. She's not here and Abby must be at least a hundred miles from here already."

"Nothin' else?" Dean asked as he arched his eyebrows questioningly. He didn't have any powers to go by, but his intuition told him something was certainly askew.

"If Lilith isn't here, they're not here," Riley answered irritatingly.

Then it crept over Sam, the feeling that something was wrong. His first instinct was to glance at Riley, but he knew the feeling wasn't coming from the vampire in the front seat.

"Slow down, Dean," Sam spoke quietly, scanning over anything he could make out in the dark, "I can feel something."

Dean immediately knew what had caused Sam to speak and had, in fact, been anticipating this. He steered his baby as close to the trees as he could get, hoping that the shelterbelt would help cloak the impala from view.

"Just try it," Dean ordered Riley as quiet as he could manage while still enforcing his demand. After taking another sweeping glance over the driveway, Dean eased the impala into park.

"Okay!" Riley was still obviously annoyed, but closed his eyes briefly, his eyebrows drawing down in concentration. After a long moment in which Dean continued to alternate his attention from the driveway, the trees, and back to Riley, Riley's voice suddenly brought his senses to full awareness, "Oh, shit."

Sam felt it before he could speak of it. It was close—_too_ close. Every sense within him reacted almost violently and entirely involuntarily as he thrust his body to his right; towards the passenger side of the car. He only had time for a strangled, "No!" before Dean's door was flung open.

Dean was slow reacting as hands were suddenly thrust upon him, grabbing his jacket and yanking him from the car with the kind of power that clearly revealed his attacker was more than human.

Riley, who'd been aware of the attack a split second before either brother, had already exited the car and shoved the back part of the passenger seat forward, struggling to reach Sam, as Dean was already as good as caught.

"Dean!" Sam yelled as he pressed his body onto the opposite side of the car. After a cowering moment, he thrust his body back towards the driver's side door and was distracted by hands landing heavily on his shoulders and pulling him away, through the passenger door. His ass hit the ground joltingly, making him bite his tongue as he immediately experienced the metallic taste of fresh blood.

Dean scrambled for his gun and was not entirely surprised to feel that another hand had already beat him to it. Grasping at the hand of his attacker, he kicked wildly at nothing in particular and heard the driver's side door of the impala slam shut from the force of his unaimed kick, "SAM! RUN!"

Dean wasn't entirely sure what was happening, but he knew that Sam was in danger if he stayed here. After lashing out again at the hands jerking him backwards, Dean yelled the only thing that he thought might help, "RILEY! GET HIM OUT!" He was yelling uncontrollably—panicky—but he didn't care. Although he was still unsure about Riley's devotion to helping them, Dean tossed his chips in with the only card still working to his advantage, knowing that if anyone could get Sam out of this situation, it was Riley.

Sam heard Dean's desperate cry and was struggling to his feet to sprint around the car and join Dean's side. After two aggressive steps towards the back of the impala, he felt hands slam onto his back again, gripping the fabric of his jacket and yanking him ruthlessly backwards, away from the car.

"Don't!" to Sam's surprise, it was Riley's voice attempting to stop him.

Sam twisted to the side, trying to avoid Riley's hold, but was entirely unsuccessful and instantly felt himself being shoved in the opposite direction of the shelterbelt.

Dean wanted to yell towards Sam again, but the fingers of a large hand were suddenly wrapped mercilessly around his neck. Feeling his eyes bulge in surprise, Dean clenched them shut and stumbled backwards, slamming into a cold hard torso as someone whispered angrily into his right ear, "Stop."

As Dean prepared to protest the request, he was disturbed to feel the muzzle of his own handgun pressed to his skull as the voice repeated, "Stop."

Shaking the urge to defy this order at all costs, Dean couldn't help but lift his arms submissively. He was fully aware that he was expendable and was sure that whoever his attacker was would be familiar with this information as well.

"Sam?" Dean choked out quietly, his voice rasping in strain, as his windpipe was nearly entirely closed under the pressure of the unforgiving and muscular hand. Although Dean had decided to comply for the moment, he was still worried about Sam's well being. For all he knew, Sam was in an identical situation on the other side of the car.

As Sam heard Dean's inquisitive call, he continued to resist Riley's hold, "Let go!"

Ignoring Sam's cries, and more than a little annoyed, Riley launched the younger Winchester away from the car. Sam couldn't see them, but two vampires had left the thick of the trees and were approaching the front of the impala.

Every muscle in Sam's body wanted to give way to Riley's pull, but he fought his almost overwhelming feeling of foreboding—and Riley's physical restraint—to get back to Dean. Remembering the machete in his hand, Sam twisted out of Riley's grasp and flashed the blade between them. Riley immediately backpedaled as his instinct for self-preservation took over.

"Sam," Riley's eyes once again flicked towards the vampires rounding the front of the car, "If we wanna save him, we gotta go."

Dean flung his head forward, pulling away from the hand holding his throat and was able to free his neck for a brief moment. "RUN!" He yelled again, aware that Sam was lingering near the car for his sake. The hand clamped back down on his neck and he struggled against the grip, stretching his tendons painfully as far as they would go as he yelled the word that somehow seemed monumentally important in that it might save Sam, "GO!"

Sam finally lowered the machete and allowed Riley to close in on him and hustle him away from the car. He felt an urgent whisper erupt from him, "Dean!" but was unable to resist Riley's strength and logic in escaping the car. Sam turned and fell into a healthy sprint beside Riley, but was distracted by the unmistakable sound of rapid steps directly behind him. He spun his head to the side, ignoring his obnoxious bangs as he tried to spot the origin of the sound. Not entirely surprised by their pursuers, Sam swung the machete aimlessly in a lazy arch as he fought to keep the vampires at bay.

"Give it to me!" Riley's voice suddenly flooded Sam's ears and he found himself annoyed by the fact that he was pleased at the idea of no longer being responsible for the situation or the outcome.

After a brief hesitation, Sam thrust the handle of the machete into Riley's awaiting hand. Riley planted his left foot and spun with a gracefulness that Sam had never witnessed. The blade flashed menacingly in the moonlight, causing both pursuing vampires to recoil in surprise. Riley's fangs were bared as he grunted in satisfaction and pleasure at the vampires' reaction although he'd missed the leading vampire's neck by inches.

Still fighting the urge to halt and return to Dean's aid, Sam glanced over his shoulder to see that the two vampires were closing in on them, but seemed reluctant to take them down for fear of losing their heads—literally. The feeling of dread and alarm continued to invade Sam's being as he struggled to function. His newfound ability was not entirely disabling as long as he kept it channeled to his surface. He could use it if he didn't allow himself to drown in it.

"The barn!" Riley spoke excitedly as they neared the farm.

Sam, who had been rather preoccupied by keeping tabs on the looming vampires, brought his eyes forward to see that they were twenty yards away from a decent sized barn. He altered his course slightly, adjusting to the new destination.

As Sam staggered crazily into the new safe haven, he spun back to see Riley's figure facing the remaining vampires. The three men were being overly wary as Riley neared the door of the barn.

"Get in!" Sam yelled, irritated by the fact that Riley had halted the escape. It'd be easier to take on an enemy after gaining a defensive ground.

After what seemed like a very long moment, one of the vampires spoke, "You! What are you _doing_?!" the vampire's fangs marred his language, but his words couldn't have been clearer to Sam, who had wondered the same thing since Riley had decided to play their side instead of Lilith's.

Riley glanced towards Sam before displaying his own fangs and snarling threateningly, "Whatever I have to."

These words disturbed Sam as he threw a questioning glance towards Riley, "Kill them!" Sam yelled, louder than he'd intended, dread seeping through him as the vampires drew closer.

Riley suddenly stumbled uncharacteristically backwards, reaching vaguely towards his head with the hand holding the machete, "Oh, fuck."

At a loss as to what was going on within Riley's mind, Sam continued to stare at him expectantly before continuing, "Get in the damn barn!"

"Fuck," Riley repeated the word and glanced at Sam, seemingly contemplating some sort of plan.

Riley slinked backwards towards the barn, away from the vicious duo. Although Sam wasn't sure of the strategy, he followed suit by grasping the large wooden door, readying himself to shut it upon Riley's retreat into the barn, creating a fortress. It wasn't what he wanted to do—he _wanted_ to be by his brother's side; fighting—but right now he had to be very careful about the way he played this game or he could lose everything. He could lose Dean.

As Riley neared Sam, he raised the machete to his mouth, gripping the blade with his teeth. Sam thought this odd, but was slow to react as Riley swooped his right forearm underneath Sam's right armpit, expertly thrusting his arm between Sam's arms and body while grasping Sam's left elbow and rendering both of Sam's arms instantly useless. Sam balked helplessly, but was aware that Riley's speed and strength was far too advanced to resist. His elbows were nearly touching behind his back as Riley held both of his arms mercilessly.

"You gotta be fuckin' _kidding_ me!" Sam couldn't help the statement from exploding from his mouth in bitter fury. He had been the foolish one. He'd used Riley, believed him, trusted him—how could he have been so stupid? The second it had become more advantageous to Riley to rejoin Lilith, he done so.

Riley answered this statement by removing the machete from his mouth with his left hand and placing the blade on Sam's exposed neck, causing Sam to produce a surprised intake of breath, as he slanted his head back submissively.

"I got him!" Riley's hold on Sam's arms intensified as he pulled the blade back slightly, causing Sam to tilt his head towards the barn ceiling. He was distractedly bemused by the fact that there was a bird nest directly above them. A small barn swallow was peaking over the edge, seeming watching the situation develop intently. Unaware that he'd intended to react at all, he felt his eyebrows twitch in amusement before Riley increased the pressure of the blade, causing an unscheduled crash into reality, "I know she thinks I'm AWOL, but I'm gonna take him back and show her how loyal I am."

One of the vampires seemed undaunted; "I'm not scared just because you got the golden boy, Ri. I'll take you down and bring him in myself."

Sam felt the need to speak, "Riley, you—"

Once again the pressure on the blade increased, cutting Sam's intended sentence short. He arched his neck back, trying to avoid the blade and hating the feel of it on his skin as Riley spoke, "I know how much she wants him. I have him. You don't wanna fuck with me, Wayne. I could take you both out without hardly putting a strand of hair out of place and you know it."

Wayne seemed to consider this for a moment, "Why'd you run?"

Riley's discomfort was apparent as he shifted his weight, causing Sam pain in his elbows and neck as he gasped.

"I figured she was gunnin' for me because she didn't know that I had to adapt to a—" Riley paused, seemingly considering how to explain what had happened, "A situation."

Continuing to stare at Riley inquisitively and narrowing his eyes, Wayne continued, "Why'd you cut it off—the connection? She couldn't contact you."

There was another dense moment in which no one moved or spoke. Finally Riley answered, "I don't have to explain myself to _you_. Take me to her. If I'm lying, you'll get props for taking me there. Just shut your fuckin' face and let me do my job."

The proposition was hanging in the air, unfinished and unclaimed. Sam felt that something was needed to ensure that things would play to Riley's favor. The only question was what Riley intended to come from his situation.

"My _word_," Riley whispered into Sam's ear. These two simple words could save Sam and Dean's lives if Riley meant them. It was the "word" that they'd discussed earlier. Was Riley giving it to him now? He'd given it before, swearing that he'd not betray it. He had sworn not to harm Sam or Dean. Sam allowed himself a moment of doubt before realizing that he was standing with both arms restrained behind him and a blade at his throat. He was in no position to play coy or attempt an escape. He was literally at Riley's mercy and felt his forehead crinkle in dread as he committed to what he hoped wasn't a trap.

"Please!" Sam didn't necessarily have to try that hard to make it seem as though he was deathly scared for his life. Riley took the cue and let the blade slide up an inch on Sam's neck, giving him the closest shave he'd had in months, "Don't! Don't kill me!"

Riley smirked in satisfaction as the two vampires' demeanor gradually shifted from defensive to appreciative, "Holy shit, man! All this time!? You were playin' them to get them here?"

Sam's mind was racing with possibilities. If Riley wasn't about to do what he hoped, he might as well have signed Dean and his death certificates. The blade of the machete was still on his neck and he was annoyed to find that he was breathing heavily through his nose, causing his neck to flex and loosen violently with each breath. Attempting to calm his own frantic breathing, Sam closed his eyes and forced himself to inhale deeply and evenly.

"She didn't know?" Riley's voice interrupted Sam's attempts at regaining his composure, "I guess it doesn't matter. I have him now. Let's go."

Riley began directing Sam towards the vampires violently—_too_ violently. It was as if he were making a show of it, which is what gave Sam hope.

"Alright, well, toss him out here and we'll all take him in," Wayne answered, still slightly perplexed by Riley's aggressive hold on Sam's arms.

"No," Riley answered instantly, his eyes scanning the skeptical faces of the two vampires before him and feeling the need to justify his harsh grip on Sam, "He's a wily one, this kid. I finally got him and I'm not takin' any chances. I'm takin' him in just like this—helpless and unable to resist."

"Fuck you!" Sam seethed through his clenched teeth, hoping that he was helping the effect of what he could only pray was a ploy.

Riley answered this by kicking Sam's left calf forward, forcing him to begin walking.

Wayne and the nameless vampire seemed a bit wary for a moment before turning and leading the way back towards the impala and the shelterbelt.

Riley slowed his pace, allowing the two vampires to walk until they were about twenty feet in front of Riley and Sam. When Riley was sure they were out of earshot, he whispered urgently into Sam's ear, "She's there—she has Dean. I can feel them both, a few feet from each other."

Sam was flabbergasted by this explanation and although Riley had given Sam some slack from the blade, Sam was still tilting his head away from it, loath to feel it on his skin. His voice was doubtful, "You didn't feel her before."

Riley sighed irritatingly, obviously annoyed that Sam didn't understand his abilities completely, but knowing that he'd have to explain them, "She was fifty miles away, but she switched. She switched bodies—her essence moves faster than any human form of transportation. It only took a couple minutes. She possessed a little girl that lives a quarter a mile from the McCormick's place—closest house for miles, aside from Abby's."

Sam's insides squirmed in dread as he registered the fact that Lilith was near, "Fuck."

Riley answered affirmatively, once again using the only word that seemed to wrap all of his feelings into a neat four-letter package, "Fuck."

**Author's Note: **As always thanks for reading, and I hope to be able to post a little more regularly now that things have settled a bit! Having two jobs again takes some getting used to. : ) Review, please! It **motivates** me to make time for writing! MysteriousRose, Cerri and Michelle—thanks, chicas for always reviewing. They never fail to make me smile.


	20. Chapter 20

**Author's Note:** Thanks for stickin' with me friends. Sorry about not updating sooner, but I got caught up with a one-shot that popped into my head in the middle of the damn night. As always, thanks for reading and please review! :)

**Chapter 20: Big Trouble in Small Packages**

As Dean felt cold fingers slide up into his hair and grasp the scruff that was available, he allowed himself to be pulled towards the shelterbelt. In the dim light of the moon he could make out a second vampire walking closely in front of him, slightly to his right. Unsure of Sam's situation, Dean decided that it was best to focus on his own escape if he had any hope of ensuring that Sam would be all right. He guaranteed that his captor's attention was preoccupied with him by speaking obnoxiously, "What do you think you're gonna get from this? It won't work this time; Sam's not stupid enough to—"

The statement was halted with a brutal fist as the right side of Dean's face exploded in pain. He felt his legs give, but was unable to collapse as the vampire behind him forcefully grasped the back collar of his jacket and started shoving him towards the trees. Dean attempted to resist, but once again felt a gun at his back. He resigned to being shoved into the shelterbelt and could only hope that Sam was better off.

To Dean's surprise, he hadn't traveled more than twenty steps before his captor yanked on the back of his collar to stop him. Dean twisted towards the vampire, intending to question him as to what was going to happen, but was instantly rewarded with another stunning fist to his face. As the entire right side of his face throbbed in pain, he could feel that his right eye had begun to swell and was probably an impressive shade of reddish purple.

For at least a minute, nothing happened and Dean couldn't resist voicing this obvious fact, "What the hell are we doing?"

Surprisingly, he was not punished with another first, but a curt answer, "Waiting."

Then the sound of someone approaching them caused Dean to glare around the small clearing. The steps were somehow strange to Dean's ears, though he couldn't put his finger on exactly why. Just as he was sure whoever was approaching was about to be revealed, he was given another blow to his right eyebrow, this time with the butt of one of the automatic weapons. Grunting loudly, Dean brought both hands to his face and was slightly alarmed at the amount of blood that dripped from his fingers as he stared at them, shaking his head slightly to push away the urge to simply collapse, unconscious.

As he fought the beginnings of dimness and struggled to remain standing, a voice danced playfully into his mind, creating a chilling chorus in which every other word was embellished and emphasized, "Wanted _Sammy_, wanted _Sammy_," the voice trickled with disappointment as a long mournful sigh slipped through her nostrils, "Got the _other_ one."

An unforgiving boot suddenly slammed into the back of Dean's left knee and he dropped heavily to his knees, fighting the desire to swear loudly. Dean's eyes flicked towards the edge of the clearing, hoping that Sam had somehow managed to avoid the grasp of the vampires. The fact that Sam was not kneeling next to him gave him hope that Sam had avoided this fate. As the events of this very long day had unfolded, Dean had become more aware that he was expendable. Everything he'd fought for—everything he'd ever done—could be disregarded in the twitch of vampire's trigger finger. Dean found it within himself to be bitterly amused, _So it ends this way? Okay. I can handle that. But if Sam goes too, so help me, God, I _will_ be back. And I'll bring them down._

The idea of making any kind of impact after death would have been lost to most people, yet Dean knew that being dead didn't mean being one couldn't influence the living. The only problem with _his_ impending afterlife was that it would be spent in the scorching pit of hell. Dean had come to understand a significant amount about the afterlife, having dealt with it on a daily basis, but he doubted his inevitable hell was the kind that one couldn't escape. Even as these sorrowful ideas continued to loom within, he felt himself resist, _For Sam, I would. I could. I will._

As these thoughts flitted through his mind, Dean used his right hand to steady himself before allowing his gaze to drift towards the voice, whom he was aware on some level, belonged to the infamous Lilith. Unbeknownst to him, she'd abandoned the last body she'd haunted because she had feared Sam's ability to sense evil would have a wider span when it concerned her. Nearly fifty miles away she had waited impatiently for a phone call that would allow her to thrust her force into the sleeping girl who lived only a quarter mile from the McCormick's house. The slightly stout little girl Dean now beheld was dressed in orange pajamas, complete with fuzzy orange slippers, and donned an eerily knowing smile that made her already pudgy cheeks even larger. Platinum blond hair—the kind that reminded Dean of JonBonet Ramsey—framed her externally innocent, pale face, which was set in a mild look of disappointment.

He couldn't help a surprised snort from escaping his mouth, _Good God, she's a kid!_ He was equally amused and dreadful of this fact, instantly aware that it was the factor that had made her approach from the trees somehow strange. Her steps had been too light—too soft—the steps of child, which Dean had never expected to hear under such circumstances. Despite the fact that she was a child, Dean wanted to give her an earful, but was oddly suppressed by her presence. Nearly overcome with her intimidating essence, Dean realized that he was now facing the Winchester brothers' most threatening enemy. He wouldn't have been afraid of a towering bully in a bar, which made it completely absurd to feel so terrified of a small, blond girl. But he'd seen what she was capable of—knew that she had scared the shit out of his little brother and knew what she planned to do—and he couldn't help the fear from gripping his heart as he forced himself to look into the face of the demon that meant to take away the one thing in the world that meant the most to him: Sam. Somehow feeling incapable of making the right move, Dean decided to simply remain quiet and motionless.

"It's not _all_ bad," Lilith somehow seemed to be reassuring Dean. The abrasive bright orange of her pajamas distracted him as he struggled to focus on his surroundings and develop a plan. "If I have _you_," she paused effectively before bringing her hands in front of her and lacing her fingers together, symbolizing the brothers as she continued in an unexpectedly high voice—even for a little girl, "he'll come."

Dean was thoroughly disturbed by this bit of insight and he visibly reacted with a slight shutter before replying, "If you even think about—"

Lilith spun towards him, her downy hair resembling the likes of blurred helicopter blades as she backhanded him squarely in the jaw with more force than Dean would ever have expected. As Dean's body collapsed to the right, he flung his hand out, attempting to prevent a complete layout. His already wrapped ribs screamed in pain as he collided with the unforgiving earth.

"Fuck me." The idea of being thrashed by a ten year old girl was completely ludicrous to Dean. He shook his head dazedly for a moment before forcing his body upwards with his hands. He was frustrated by the fact that he was unable to gain anything more than a kneeling position, as two vampires flanked him on either side and Lilith paced in front of him.

"You're cute," Lilith's voice once again floated throughout Dean's skull. When she spoke, it was almost as if her voice accomplished more than creating noise. He felt as if she were somehow within him—penetrating his mind. She shook her head playfully and slowly, allowing her loose hair to sway across her vision disturbingly as she brought her focus towards Dean. "What'd you do to him?"

The question seemed uncharacteristic in that it was frank. Dean leaned forward, resting his right hand on the cool earth as he coughed again, his ribs burning in protest, before bringing his eyes to Lilith, "Who?"

Lilith leaned closer to Dean, sighing loudly and violently, making Dean pull his hand away from the ground and recoil slightly, anticipating another blow. Glaring unnervingly at him for another moment and resembling a child who'd just asked an adult whether or not Santa Claus really existed, Lilith narrowed her eyes, somehow strangely radiating angry heat towards Dean.

"My boy," Lilith cocked her head to the side, clearly expecting a disappointing answer, "My _favorite_ boy." The word 'favorite' was dragged out for a ridiculously long time as Lilith's eyes widened chillingly. For a moment Dean contemplated what she meant and finally came to the conclusion that she was most likely speaking of Riley, whom she probably assumed was dead.

As a reward for his hesitation, Dean was given another vigorous fist to the face. He clutched at his aching head, aware that his right eyebrow was practically spouting blood. Wanting to yell for her to stop, yet unwilling to allow himself to do so, he grudgingly placed his both hands on the ground for a moment before thrusting his tender body back into a kneeling position defiantly.

Once again, he was rewarded with violence for this small show of bravery as one of the vampires kneed him in the small of his back, causing almost unimaginable pain to spiral upwards from the contact point. Dean grunted as he collapsed into the dirt, unable to stop himself with his hands this time. Bitterness seeped through him achingly as blinked rapidly, pulling away from the unconsciousness that loomed threateningly close to his vulnerable mind. The bitterness was his primary emotion, as he could practically taste the pastiness of it—thick, dry and infuriating. After wallowing in it briefly, he welcomed the sensation and utilized it to force himself upwards, once more glaring at Lilith spitefully.

Dean knew it was hopeless. He was dealing with evil. The scale of this particular evil was yet to determined, but on any scale, he was sure he was outweighed.

"Killed my favorite boy, I bet," Lilith bottom lip was thrust forward in a mock expression of disappointment, but Dean knew it was much more than that. She was nearly livid due to Riley's supposed death. Lilith again stepped forward and gave him another vicious backhand.

Dean forced himself not to fall face first into the cool earth as he leaned back on his haunches, distributing his weight away from Lilith. Although he managed to avoid eating dirt, he felt his left hand drift towards his jaw tenderly, "Christ!" He considered trying a new approach, knowing that if he allowed her to fist his world into nothingness, he would be entirely useless to Sam. It was impossible to tell how the fact that Riley was still alive would affect Lilith, but Dean had to try something. He was nearly certain that if he didn't, she would beat away his consciousness, and maybe even his life, for taking away her 'favorite boy'. He was merely a pawn in this unforgiving game. Sam was the one she wanted—the one she _needed_. Dean just needed to survive; so he could protect Sam, "He's—" Dean had to stop as a gush of warm, thick liquid flowed into his mouth from the inside of his lip. He spit an impressive amount of blood into the dirt and was distractedly troubled by how much had already poured from the split above his eyebrow, creating a small, sticky pool that had already begun to dry, deepening into an angry brown. "He's not dead."

Lilith's eyes narrowed as she sneered unbelievingly, "It's bad to lie, Dean," she said slowly, turning from him and strolling three steps away before stopping and spinning back on her heal, "If you do _bad_ things, _you'll_ go to hell." At this, she giggled almost uncontrollably and brought her hands up to her face, her forearms creating parallel orange lines, as she covered her mouth in what would seem like a polite gesture from a normal young girl. As it was, it only made her seem slightly psychotic and caused a frosty chill to slither through Dean's spine, somehow making him seem suddenly cold.

These words cut into Dean, as he was sure they were meant to. He closed his eyes briefly before looking down, feeling somehow ashamed. He'd spent his life saving others and had done much more good in this world than bad. But he was still going to hell. The unfairness of it threatened to distract him from his current problem. Instead of giving her the satisfaction by showing how her words had affected him, Dean forced his face into his signature smirk, "Well, then, I got nothin' to lose."

Lilith's giggling ceased immediately as if there were a switch within her controlling it. She approached Dean again, making him flinch involuntarily. Lilith most likely didn't believe him, but her curiosity concerning Riley was enough to make her entertain Dean's claim that he was still alive, "If he's not dead, where is he?"

"With Sam," Dean answered immediately, somehow compelled to convince her that Riley was alive. Riley seemed to be the only being she had any feelings towards aside from Sam. He had to force himself not to start babbling excuses and knew that the fewer details she knew about what had happened concerning Riley's loyalties, the better off they would be. If Riley really had been on the level with the Winchesters, he could still help, but it was imperative that she find out as little as possible about Riley's alliance with Dean and Sam, though even Dean didn't know if he fully believed that Riley's true intentions were to help them.

Lilith's left eyebrow twitched up, making the child's face seem somehow aged as she studied Dean, most likely trying to decipher his truthfulness. As Dean continued to hold her gaze, he was becoming more concerned about the blood trickling from his right eyebrow. It flowed downward, making the right side of his face seem unnaturally warm. Longing to sop it up with his sleeve, yet unwilling to make any movement with his hands while Lilith was so concentrated on him, he settled for sliding his cheek across his shoulder, leaving a trail of warm, fresh blood on his jacket. Revoltingly, some of it had already dried, causing it to crack slightly each time he spoke.

Taking another step forward, Lilith bent until she was squatting in front of Dean like a kid in a sand box. Though her body language was childlike, her face displayed nothing but cynic satisfaction. "My favorite _toy_." Her delighted eyes narrowed as she scanned over Dean's forehead and followed the line of blood to his neck. She placed her hands on the ground and used them to move the top half of her body towards Dean, stopping inches away from his nose and wearing an intensely serious expression that had no right to dwell on the face of one so young, "My favorite _boy_." She motioned to the vampire on Dean's left with a close-mouthed smile. The vampire kneeled next to Dean and used his hair to pull his head back as Lilith continued, her deceivingly sweet breath flowing over his neck, "They are both _alive_?"

Dean felt his neck muscles straining against the force of the vampire's grasp as he struggled to focus on Lilith despite the tilt of his head. He knew he was supposed to confirm that Riley was alive at this moment, but something else bothered him so much, he couldn't help but voice it, "Which is which?"

Lilith seemed to consider this for a moment; as if she hadn't been aware of the difference until the moment she'd spoken it. However, after giving Dean another innocent wide-eyed stare, she launched herself to full height, nearly skipping with delight at the news that she now believed. "He's alive. If he's alive I can have him back." Her strange skipping motion stopped suddenly, as her hands flopped down to her sides, thoughtfully, "Or have him punished. I'm afraid of what he's done—what he means to do." Her deep blue eyes blinked once, very slowly, before falling to Dean's eyes, "_Bad_ boys deserve to be punished."

Without warning, Lilith had closed the distance between herself and Dean, as she threw another fist into his face. He felt more blood surge into his mouth on contact, as he was once again face first in the dirt.

Lilith's calm, quiet, musical voice flowed into Dean's mind, "And _you're_ a bad boy."

Dean's head and ribs shrieked in pain as he collided with the firm soil and placed his palms against the ground, though he didn't bother to raise his torso yet. A part of him was prepared to break. He wanted to give in. He wanted it to end. He wanted to die and be done with it all. Feeling himself waver on the edge of consciousness, a new thought sprung into his mind, _What about Sam? You can't leave him. Hell the kid couldn't even tie his shoes until he was 6; and that's just 'cause you showed him the bunny ears. _Dean's mind was equally amused and sorrowful at this line of thought. He had taught Sam much, but he would never teach him anything again. Even if they somehow managed to escape Lilith alive, his time was nearly up and Sam would be on his own. No more lessons. No more laughs. No more life.

"Get up."

The demand was spoken so lightly and playfully, that Dean was initially unaware that it was an order. As he used his hands to thrust his body upwards, he felt the dirt from the ground clinging to the blood on his face and knew that this meant his face was now dominated by dirt instead of blood in appearance. Coughing shallowly to avoid straining his aching ribs, he tried to focus on Lilith's alarmingly cheerful figure. As he attempted to gain his balance, one of the attending vampires snatched the back of his jacket and yanked him mercilessly to his feet, causing Dean to gasp in pain as the muscles in his stomach complained, "Ghuawgh!"

Lilith smiled up at him sweetly before eyeing his hands, "Gotta tie you _up_," she blinked slowly as she shifted her eyes to a point a few feet to the right side of Dean's head before she slowly brought them back to his face, clearly considering something amusing, "Or _down_." A ghastly chuckle escaped the misleadingly innocent child as Lilith's face suddenly fell into mischievous seriousness. She arched one eyebrow up, resembling an adult quietly scolding a child before adding; "It's better that way."

As one of the vampires approached him with a rope, Dean began to resist and was instantly punished with a harsh fist to the small of his back. His legs once again buckled as he allowed his knees to hit dirt in jolting pain. Dean thrashed out once more as the vampire attempted to bind his hands, and was not surprised to receive another blow, this time to his stomach. He retched as his body hitched forward and was unable to resist the strength of the vampire as he bit back the need to vomit. Feeling the pressure on his wrists increase and wanting to avoid being restrained, Dean bucked ineffectually and in less than a minute, found himself with his knees approximately a foot and a half apart in the dirt and his wrists bound securely in front of him. The rope was brutally tight, making him cringe in pain every time he bothered to move any part of either arm.

He was unable to hide his disappointment as he lowered his head, resting his aching hands near his right thigh, "Fuck."

As he slowly brought his head back up, he was shocked when his face was met with another hard, yet very small fist. Lilith's voice rang within his throbbing head, "That's a _bad_ word."

Dean snarled with cynical satisfaction before spitting a mouthful of blood purposefully onto Lilith's orange slippers, "_Fuck_ you."

Expecting retaliation, Dean straightened and leaned back, producing his best 'bring-it-on' smirk, aware that it was tainted red because of the amount of blood he could still feel in his mouth, but Lilith only glared at him as if she were a seventh grader who'd been disrespected at a dance. Her face slid from a pouting expression to the unmistakable air of anticipation, which made every muscle in Dean's body stiffen in dread. Lilith's eyes drifted away from Dean, expectantly eyeing the trees to Dean's right.

After a moment, Dean became aware of the noise that had drawn her attention. Footsteps were stomping towards them from the outer edge of the clearing. He hoped against hope that Sam was not about to appear in an attempted rescue, knowing it would be impossible. To Dean's relief, two vampires trudged into the small clearing, both looking apprehensive and gripping their guns at the ready, which seemed odd to Dean seeing as how he was a rather unimpressive threat at the moment. However, the second vampire to clump into the clearing glanced over his shoulder tentatively, which caused Dean's eyes to fly back towards the thick of the trees in apprehension. What he saw made his blood positively boil in rage.

**Author's Note:** This chapter is dedicated to Cerri. ; ) Thanks so much for reading and please don't be afraid to review! My schedule's been a bit crazy lately, but seeing that you are still with me motivates me to make the time for writing! Thanks again for reading!!  
-Salty Q


	21. Chapter 21

**Author's Note:** Sorry for the delay in posting! Things have been a bit hectic. In any case, here's the next chapter! Thanks for reading!

**Chapter 21: Pinned**

Riley had the machete pressed to Sam's throat mercilessly as he halted to a stop between the two vampires that had preceded him into the clearing. Dean could see the angry redness on Sam's neck where the blade had probably slid slightly up and down during their walk to the clearing, causing a line just under his chin where the blade had rubbed it raw. There was a trickle of blood sliding down the left side of his neck, which made Dean want to launch himself towards them, bound hands or not.

Sam was suddenly annoyed and ashamed by the panic that threatened to close in at the mere sight of Lilith as he was manhandled into the clearing. His need to flee away from Lilith was overtaking his thought process and he had to contain the urge to fight Riley's hold and sprint away from her, but knew there was no way he could leave Dean. The walk to the trees had been torturous for Sam, as he dreaded another encounter with Lilith, yet longed to ensure that Dean was alive after the scuffle at the impala.

Sam's intentionally averted his eyes from Lilith immediately in order to find Dean. Sam's expression revealed open concern and Dean took a moment to wonder just how beat up he looked. He felt like hell and his brother's situation made him feel ten times worse as he accosted Riley, "You son of a bitch! You fuckin' _LIAR_! You knew she was here before we got here—you just wanted us to walk right into her hands! I'm gonna—"

Another small, rock hard fist slammed into his jaw, causing him to collapse to his right. Dean was fighting to stay alert, not sure if he could manage consciousness after another one of those blows. The world fogged for a moment, but he coughed in an effort to keep himself aware and somehow managed to place his hands on the ground and force his aching, tortured body back into a kneeling position. Sam's voice pricked at his ears, making him search for his brother again.

"You have me, okay?" Sam's eyes had grown wide and unmistakably angry at the way Dean was being treated, but there was also something else lingering deeper in those dark eyes. There was a spark of hope in them, which Dean did not understand, as he was feeling more hopeless by the second. Sam continued, "Just let him go—you don't need him—"

Riley halted Sam's desperate plea with a flick of his wrist, causing Sam to clench his teeth shut and tilt his head even farther back, now only able to see the leaves of the trees fluttering in the breeze by the dim blue glow of the moonlight.

Riley hadn't wanted to treat Sam this way, but if he was about to fool Lilith, he was going to have to play the part to the last detail. He glanced towards Sam's neck to see that the last movement had caused the minimal blood flow on the left side of Sam's neck to slightly increase. Mentally he shrugged. If the brothers knew anything about war, they would understand.

Lilith ignored Sam completely as she approached the pair, having eyes only for Riley, "Riley," She smiled girlishly and ran her tongue over her top row of teeth, "Where _has_ my favorite boy been?"

Riley seemed slightly uncomfortable, but was doing his best to hide it, "Doin' my job," he finally answered, clearly nervous, but that would make sense even if he were being completely truthful. After an intense pause, Riley added, with an air of justification, "I brought him."

Lilith still seemed strangely unconcerned about Sam, although this entire nightmare had been about capturing him and steeling his power. She tilted her head down, though her eyes never left Riley's face, resulting in her glaring upwards at him, her eyes peering eerily out from under her eyebrows, "Why did you ignore me?" She paused for a long moment, holding the disturbing glare, before letting her head drift back and to her right, cocked at a forty-five degree angle, "I tried to _call_ you."

Riley knew that this meant she had tried to enter his mind. However, he had severed the connection the moment he had decided to help the Winchesters. He also knew this would be the hardest part to justify and had already prepared an explanation. Now all he had to do was sell it. "I had to shut you out because of Sam's power. I was trying to convince them that I was trying to help them. If you'd have entered my mind, Sam might have felt it and they'd have killed me. I couldn't risk it if I wanted to get him to you alive." Riley tried to sound as sincere as possible, but was aware that his words were slightly rushed. He stood motionlessly for a long, moment as Lilith contemplated this explanation.

The vampires in the clearing glanced around at each other, seemingly impressed with the impromptu planning Riley had put into fooling the brothers and the fact that he had delivered them both to Lilith alive.

Lilith's looked away from Riley, and down into the dirt as she sucked on the inside of her cheeks, creating an unnaturally sallow face. After what seemed like an infinite moment to Riley, she made a strange sucking sound by hissing in a breath through her lips and teeth, then popped her lips open satisfyingly. As her eyes found Riley's, her face bloomed into an immensely pleased, childlike smile, "That's why you're my favorite boy."

Sam felt Riley's chest dip down in relief as an inaudible sigh escaped him. Although Sam was sure that the fact that Lilith had believed Riley was better for their situation, he forced himself to remain the victim, although he hoped the situation was about to change.

"Let my _toy_ go," Lilith instigated the change that Sam had anticipated as her gaze finally shifted to Sam's eyes.

Until now, Sam had only had two feelings since entering the clearing. His initial urge had been to flee from the overwhelming feeling of evil that was rolling away from Lilith's small body like a slow-moving avalanche. The second instinct was the concern he felt for Dean's well being.

Now, however, he felt the icy ball of fear in his gut drifting upwards and expanding—the worst kind of fear—the kind that could make it nearly impossible to think. It wasn't fear for his own life; that, he could handle. This was much worse, as it was the fear he felt when Dean's life in danger, the amount of which seemed to have increased greatly lately. He'd been feeling a constant, yet dull form of it since Dean had made the deal, but what he felt now was an intensified version of every dreadful, fearful or regretful thought he'd experienced since Dean had forfeited his soul in order to save Sam's life.

As he stood with his head tilted back awkwardly to avoid the blade, he couldn't help but let his eyes drift to her hands—the hands of a child, which were now capable of ending his life; more importantly the hands that had already beat Dean halfway to hell—literally. He shuttered at this thought and tried to avoid any sort of committal movement. Finally, Riley allowed the machete to fall away from his neck as he placed his hand on Sam's back and pushed him towards Lilith.

Sam stumbled forward, but halted his momentum as soon as he was able, somehow feeling foolish for experiencing so much fear in the wake of someone less than half his size. He was nearly overcome with the urge to start running somewhere—anywhere—but knew he'd never escape the clearing in time. In the briefest of moments, he forced his eyes away from Lilith to look towards Dean. Dean had an odd sort of look on his dirty, blood-caked face. He seemed as if he were anticipating something and nodded nearly undetectably, encouraging Sam to make a move. Dean was ready. He was bleeding, aching and wheezing, rather than breathing normally, but he was ready.

As it happened, Sam didn't need to make a move at all. He heard the now-familiar sound of a blade slicing through flesh and spun in time to see Riley behead a second vampire—Wayne. He'd taken down the vampires that had been standing on either side of him and was launching himself towards Lilith.

In less than a second, Lilith's face displayed surprise before falling into an incredulously shocked expression of rage and Sam's body suddenly seemed out of his control. His hands flew forward as his torso was flung away from Lilith. As his back and head collided with the trunk of a tree, Sam hissed in a breath, blinking the pain away laboriously.

Dean felt his body suddenly launch upwards and away from Lilith. Throwing a glance over his shoulder, he was able to determine that he was about to hit a tree—_hard_. He clenched his jaw down and his eyes shut as his already beaten body slammed into the harsh bark of the tree. His body was becoming so beaten that he felt more and more as if he were in control of how much of it he could feel. _Can you be an 'experienced pain handler'?_ He asked himself with a hint of bemusement. Disturbed by the pain that exploded in his abdomen from an unexpected stretch, Dean realized that his bound wrists had been thrust above his head, pinned by Lilith's demon force. His entire body was stretched into a mercilessly slim line, causing every part that had ached before to positively scream in misery. He felt a chilly breeze sweep across the lower part of his stomach, meaning that his shirt had been pulled up far enough to expose his abdomen, just above his jeans. Although he wanted nothing more than to avoid it—for Sammy's sake—a pained groan escaped him.

Riley's experience was quite different from either brother, as he was not propelled in any direction. His entire body was suddenly immobile. He inwardly scolded himself for having rushed the attack, wishing he'd have waited for a better time, but he had read it in her eyes. She hadn't really believed him. She was going to kill all of them. He could sense it like he could sense her. He _had_ been her 'favorite' boy, but she'd find a new one—maybe not one quite as special and maybe not immediately—but in the moment before he had attacked, he had felt her essence begin to withdraw from him reluctantly, already planning to replace him because she was aware of his betrayal.

Lilith's face had taken on an excellent imitation of hurt, "How _could_ you?" She hadn't moved since Riley's attack had begun, but she now stepped towards him, lip thrust forward, head tipped down, sulking, "You were my favorite."

As Riley had expected, he was finally thrust away from Lilith. As he felt the pull begin, he focused all of his energy on keeping his grasp on the machete, though he wasn't sure what the hell he was going to accomplish with it at this point. He was surprised at the amount of pain that he felt as his body collided with the trunk of a tree, having not experienced the likes of such physical pain since he'd been mortal. Gasping at the intensity of it, he somehow knew that Lilith had made sure he would feel the same amount of pain that a human would feel in order to make him realize that he was just as vulnerable to her as any human would be.

The two remaining vampires seemed nearly as surprised as the defiant trio and continued to hold their guns half raised, both displaying an apprehensive expression. They seemed to be getting rather concerned about the dwindling number of surviving vampires as they shared an intense glance that clearly revealed that they wanted to high tail it out of the woods, but were far too afraid to betray Lilith. That obviously wasn't working out too well for Riley.

Another disturbing giggle erupted from Lilith as she eyed Riley, then Sam. To Sam's dread, she proceeded to focus her attention on Dean as she clicked her tongue loudly before seemingly realizing something monumental as she produced a toothy smile and sneered in satisfaction.

"You," She spun back towards Sam and approached him with an intentional girlishness, "You wouldn't give your power to me when your life was the only one that would be lost."

Sam would have shifted uncomfortably at these words if he'd been able to move. However, he was only able look on as Lilith planned her next move.

"I haven't had time to get a new witch," Lilith seemed only slightly disappointed, "But this will be _so_ much more fun. Be glad you wore your shoes this time, Sammy," Lilith winked too slowly—the kind of wink that makes you wonder if the person meant to do it at all, "Because now the game _really_ begins."

Knowing what she meant to do, Sam let one word fall from his lips, aware that it would mean nothing to her, but being unable to stop it, "No."

As Sam had feared, Lilith's face drooped into knowingness as she winked at Sam and turned towards Dean. Dean's entire body was obviously aching as he tried, in vain, to relieve the pain that had overtaken his ribs, knees, face and head.

Dean was aware that her attention had become focused on him as he struggled and was grateful for it. The more 'attention' she allowed Dean, the less she forced upon Sam.

Glancing once more up at his bound wrists, finding it ridiculous that they seemed to be held in place, Dean sighed heavily and allowed his gaze to find Lilith, still distractedly gratified that she was going to punish him first—and most mercilessly.

_Sammy, don't break_, He thought to himself, wanting to breath deeply to focus his mind and push the pain away, yet unwilling to actually allow such a breathing technique as it would make his ribs burn in pain. Forcing himself to make his thoughts audible despite the pain it caused, Dean spoke, "Don't do it, Sam, don't give in—no matter what. Don't you dare."

Lilith seemed amused at Dean's orders and open desperation. She approached Dean, one eyebrow cocked upwards, making her brow seem unnaturally furrowed for a young child, "Oh, Dean," she shook her head and clicked her tongue three times as one side of her mouth drew up, "You better hope he does."

**Author's Note:** Thanks for reading! Please review! I hadn't posted in a long time and the story had kind of taken a back burner in my mind, but the other day, I got a new review from Nilah. And that got the ol' gears rollin' again, so it really does help to know y'all are reading! :p Have a great weekend, friends!


	22. Chapter 22

**Author's Note:** Alright, readers, stick with me! I haven't quit writing, but things have been unbelievably crazy lately. I seem to have lost a couple of my faithful reviewers, but hopefully they are still reading. ; )

**Chapter 22: To the Second Power**

Riley watched as Lilith taunted the Winchesters, but could hardly be distracted by it at a time like this. It was the first time Riley had experienced it. He was unable to move, unable to interact and, most importantly, unable to attack. Having never been on the wrong side of a demon encounter, he was decidedly bitter about the entire situation.

Oddly, what was upsetting him the most was that she seemed to have disregarded him as a non-threat as she focused on Sam and Dean. Though he'd never liked Lilith, even when he'd been most loyal to her, he'd always respected her—respected her enough to reject the idea of defying her. That had changed after meeting back up with the Winchesters. He'd never liked her, but now he'd lost respect. She shouldn't have assumed that Riley was harmless at this point by completely ignoring him to toy with Sam and Dean.

_She's gonna pay for that_, Riley thought angrily, trying to resist smiling sullenly. If she wanted to end him, she'd better do it—because this game was making him livid. Then he felt it—the smallest of movements at first—a twitch of his index finger. For the last couple minutes, he'd been unable to do anything but witness, as the situation grew desperate. He had to resist revealing any form of satisfaction with his face as he worked to free more of his physical body.

Sam's breath caught in his throat as he watched Lilith approach Dean, eyeing him like a tasty dish on a buffet table. Lilith threw a glance over her shoulder, directing the next statement towards Sam, "I know what will break you," as the word 'you' leaked from her petite mouth slowly, Dean hollered in aguish as the jean material covering his right thigh split and erupted in a crimson cascade of blood.

"No!" Sam shouted the word instinctively before silencing himself at Dean's warning expression, despite the fact that Dean was in unimaginable pain. Although his blood streamed downward, sickeningly decorating the ground beneath him, Dean still felt the need to make what they were both aware of, clear. If Sam gave her what she wanted, the game was as good as over and they'd both be dead.

Lilith, however, found Sam's vocal interruption intriguing and drifted towards him, with her hands neatly folded in front of her, right over left, "I knew from the beginning. I was there with Riley when he offered to let you walk, Dean," Lilith blinked innocently over her shoulder at Dean before tossing a scornful glance towards Riley, "I needed to know if you'd die for him—if he'd die for you, and now," she paused briefly, suddenly seeming interested and disappointed in her unpainted nails, "Now, I know you would—_both_ of you. _Fools_." Once again Lilith paused for effect, scanning her eyes over her pinned audience, "What purpose is life if you're not _living_ it," she now seemed somehow jealous as she continued, "Why give your life for someone else—_for anything?!_" Her voice rose in pitch until she was screaming the last two words, resembling a young girl in the throes of a tantrum.

Surprised by this uncharacteristically passionate display by one usually so eerily composed, Dean and Sam shared an apprehensive glance, fearing what was to come.

Lilith had stopped three feet in front of Sam, making him want to squirm in discomfort, yet not possessing the motor functions to do so, as he was held entirely immobile by Lilith's force, "You don't like when I hurt him." The words were a statement, not a question, "I'm going to do it again." After a lingering pause, in which Sam forced himself to remain quiet in order to obey Dean's silent order, Lilith once again turned away from him, towards Dean.

"You're face is _too_ cute," Lilith let her false smile spread across her face as she dipped her head down menacingly, "I won't hurt it . . . well, not anymore than I already have, that is." She smiled and raised her eyebrows as if she'd just revealed a thoughtful present to Dean.

Dean felt a searing pain in his left side and hesitated before allowing his eyes to drop down, terrified by the amount of blood seeping into his shirt, just above his waistline. The pain was hot—so hot, Dean felt as if he would have pulled away from it, had he been able to move. Yet he was completely helpless, and the physical pain momentarily interrupted his inner dread at the terror of their near future. Fighting the bile rising in the back of his throat, Dean forced himself to take a deep breath and bring his head back up, fearful of what would happen if he allowed himself to lose his precious consciousness.

Distantly he heard Sam's desperate cry, "No! Please!" Sam could hear himself screaming, but was nearly unaware of his own voice. Dean's blood trickled downward, leaking over the exposed span of his stomach in jagged, red streams and soaking into the waist of his jeans. The rational part of Sam's mind knew it was entirely fruitless to give Lilith the satisfaction of hearing him beg, but he could not prevent himself from yelling the blunt plea.

Although Riley was concerned with the situation, he couldn't help but feel that he was gaining an edge. He was able to move his entire left hand. He knew Sam's situation was different. Having never been under such force, Riley was motivated to fight it with everything he possessed, yet Sam had known this kind of restraint before he'd been powerful enough to fight it, so he had instantly resigned to feeling completely helpless. Riley couldn't blame him, but he was determined to make it clear to Sam that they stood a chance—the chosen children rejects—if they fought hard enough. He could feel it—sense it—in every part of his body. It was her mistake to think that Riley couldn't read her fear of them. She knew—or at least suspected—that if they worked together, she'd have something entirely new to deal with, but she didn't expect them to make that connection. There was one slight hitch in his current situation—he needed Sam—and Sam's mind was overtaken by rage and fear. Sam was the factor concerning Riley's life or death and he needed Sam to fight with him.

Finally the pain subsided slightly, leaving Dean heaving as he searched instinctively for Sam's face. Once again Lilith strolled away from Dean towards Sam, stopping when she was only a few feet away from him as her chubby cheeks drew up in satisfaction, "That _really_ hurt. I know it did. If you don't want me to do it again—or something much worse—let me have your power, Sam," her eyes narrowed in challenge as Sam looked on, horrified, "Or fight it." Lilith took a step back, smiling like a young, flirting girl as she giggled briefly, "Do _something_, Sammy." Lilith made a show of raising her hand to her mouth and covering it as she produced an entirely fake yawn, "I'm bored."

Sam's eyes drifted away from Lilith's creepily calm face as he turned to Dean for guidance. It was obvious that Dean was attempting to give Sam a reassuring look, but the blood that he was sporting on more than half of his face was much more distracting than soothing.

"Dean—" an intense inward explosion cut off the utterance as every muscle in Sam's body seemed to have been berated by sharp, unforgiving nails. Sucking in a surprised breath, Sam couldn't help the word from escaping him, louder than he'd ever released it before, "FUCK!" It was much like the pain that she had inflicted on him within the abandon theatre, but it was somehow more intense—more aggressive. His breath hitched in his throat and he was unable to even cough.

The pain slowly subsided as Lilith leisurely backed away from Sam, "Not ready, yet, I see." She bore her teeth—half of them probably still baby teeth—before closing her lips around them deliberately, "I have all the time in the world, you see. I'm just a child." Lilith's head dipped down and slightly to her right as she turned away from Sam, letting her eyes linger on him until it was absolutely necessary to avert them.

Riley decided to focus all of his energy on Sam. He wasn't sure it was within his capability, but he had to try. When it came to his ability, Lilith had been the first being he'd ever been able to _communicate_ with across distances or without talking. Although Riley had found hope in the fact that he was able to move his hand, he needed Sam's help to take on the merciless bitch. If Sam were somehow part of a demonic rivalry concerning Lilith, wouldn't Riley be able to open his mind up to Sam as well? As he concentrated, he decided there was no other choice—he had to try.

Dean's breathing had grown unsteady as he concentrated on staying conscious. Was it possible to live through much more? He'd once believed it would take an all holy shit storm to bring him down, but lately, his death seemed to be more than eminent—it seemed to be constantly lurking about his body, anticipating any weak moment or any opportune time to take him away from this world—away from Sam. This was the thought that made him fight it every time; the feeling that made him want to survive despite the nearly unbearable pain of living.

Wanting nothing more than to free himself from her hold, Sam felt his body twitch and exhaled in surprise. He had moved despite her force, yet it wasn't nearly enough to save Dean. If all he could do was tremble against her hold, he might as well call it quits now. He needed to break the hold completely in order to—

_Sam._

Sam's desperate thoughts were suddenly shaken by a voice. Someone was talking to him.

_Sam, can you hear me?_

But not out loud, although the voice was familiar. Sam closed his eyes and pushed the sensation away, unwilling to deal with something so overwhelming at such a time. If it was another stage of his power, he didn't want it; and he sure as shit didn't want to deal with it right now.

_Sam, I think you can hear me. I've never tried this before, but you're right there and I think you can hear me. It's Riley._

Sam pulled his eyes away from Dean's broken, bleeding body to glance towards Riley. He could barely move his head, but it was enough to rest his eyes on their troublesome partner.

Riley knew what was needed of him and forced his head into a slight nod, reassuring Sam that it really was Riley's voice within Sam's head. Sam had to resist scoffing out loud, wondering how this situation could become any more bizarre or more complicated.

_We can take her, man_, Riley's voice once again floated through Sam's mind, _I can move my hand and I'm workin' on everything else. I think we can take her—or at least put up a hell of a fight. But I need your help._

Sam was tempted to sneer at Riley in defiance, thinking that this was somehow one last torture from Lilith. Her powers were something he couldn't understand or resist and he was now afraid that this was the last jest meant for him.

The two remaining vampires seemed to be lingering unwillingly as the situation became more intense. As the moment drew on, it was clear that they wanted it to pass with as little resistance as possible, but were unsure of their role during this exchange. If Sam had cared about them, he'd have told them to run as fast and as far away as possible, but he wanted them to suffer—he wanted them to die—and he was almost sure that's what Lilith had planned for them—eventually.

As much as Sam would have liked to mull over the new development concerning a voice within his mind, he was suddenly distracted by the fact that Lilith had once again approached him.

"He's going to die, Sam," Lilith spoke it as if it were something they were discussing as they enjoyed a late night dinner, "You can save him," she paused and giggled at an inside joke that only she was privy to before revealing it, "Well, you can save his _life_—not his _soul_." Lilith approached Sam and reached towards him. He instinctively drew in a breath, pulling his stomach back, but Lilith rested her hand in the center of his rib cage. Her touch was chilling and full of power. Sam could sense that she could end his without so much as snapping her fingers. His heart pounded uncontrollably as he waited to witness her next move, "He gave up his _soul_ already to a lucky winner." To Sam's relief, she withdrew her hand as she took several steps away from him, glaring at him intensely.

_Try, dammit!_ Riley's voice was suddenly inside Sam's head again, _Try to fight it—I know you think it's hopeless, but you have to try! For fuck's sake, man, if you don't, Dean's gonna die!_

Riley knew it was a low blow, but it was the only thing that would make Sam exert all of his effort. Maybe it was his weakness—both of their weaknesses; to care about each other so much—but those who were out to get them had never considered the fact that it might also be their strength. Riley was sure that Sam's love for Dean was enough to save the three of them right now—if he could focus and use it.

Lilith seemed completely unaware of the inward one-sided conversation as Riley tried to make Sam understand. She skipped in place, the orange of her pajama suit bobbing up and down merrily. She had once again focused her attention on Dean, making Sam's skin crawl in protest.

_Fine_, Sam thrust every bit of effort he had into resisting the hold on his physical body and was immensely surprised to feel a small amount of give in the hold near his legs. He glanced down, feeling that his neck was permitted more room to operate than had recently been allowed.

It was the hardest thing he'd ever had to do, but Sam drew away from Dean and concentrated all of his being into freeing himself. He would normally be unable to pull his attention away from his brother, considering the shape Dean was in, but Riley's encouragement had forced the reaction from him.

Slowly Sam began to feel somehow exalted, as he was able to move more and more of his physical body. Although his eyes had been closed in concentration, he opened them to observe Dean's situation. To his horror, Dean's right bicep had been ripped open and was now gushing blood at an alarming rate. There couldn't be much blood left for him to give. But he was giving it—would always give it—for his little brother. Sam felt a dozen things in one moment as he brought his mind to focus. Dean had always looked out for him. Dean had always made sure that Sam came out okay. Dean had sold his _soul_ to make sure he was doing right by Sam. And now, they were pinned to a couple of trees in a forest, being tortured by a maniacally possessed grade schooler, and Sam couldn't return the favor?

_Fuck this!_

Sam's entire body shuttered violently as he felt his force challenge her hold on his body. He knew it wasn't just his own power fighting it—he could feel it coming from his right as well. It rolled off of Riley nearly as intensely as he felt it in himself. _His isn't as strong as mine. How is that possible?_ Sam's mind wondered briefly and almost loopily after the effort he had just produced, _He's supposed to be the super-chosen vampire._

The joints within his body jolted as he felt his feet hit the dirt and Sam had to tap into every muscle within his body to keep his feet. He heard Riley do the same next to him, yet didn't take the time to even glance in his direction. Lilith was hurting Dean—and that's all that mattered.

To Sam's surprise, Dean had also fallen to the ground, moaning in pain, yet thankfully still conscious. Sam hadn't anticipated Dean being released as well. In a way, this was worse for them, seeing as how Lilith would instantly know that her plan had been hindered.

Both vampires had turned back towards Sam and Riley in surprise, training a gun on each of them. Sam, however, simply stared at the back of Lilith's hateful blond head, waiting for her to realize what had happened. Since the vampires had guns trained on them, Sam doubted they'd be able to make it out of the forest alive, but they had proven something to her that night. They had the balls to fight it—and they had a chance at winning, which was clearly exactly what she'd been trying to avoid. And if they had done it, others could too.

Lilith knew what had happened, but she remained still, also aware that they would be unable to harm her if her vampire cronies were doing their jobs. However, after briefly considering the bang up job they'd been doing so far, she decided it best to turn and face Sam and Riley before they were able to create any trouble for her.

"Oh, boys," Lilith finally turned away from Dean's barely conscious body, using the ball of her left foot to make her movement deceivingly lighthearted, "I wish you wouldn't have done that."

Sam was finding it difficult to concentrate on anything aside from Dean as he forced himself to focus on the energy that had allowed him to escape her hold. The guns were distracting too. He could imagine the vampires growing frightened and blowing them away for the smallest twitch of movement and although they had just resisted Lilith's power, Sam was fairly certain bullets would still finish him off quite efficiently.

Riley, however, had no such concern. He was hesitant to move because doing so might cause Sam's death, but he was afraid there was no other option. Knowing Lilith, she'd change her mind about needing Sam's power, have Sam and Dean shot, behead Riley, and be done with this tiresome business. Hell, she could be painting the fingernails on her newly possessed body by dawn.

Allowing only a moment to pass after Lilith's statement, Riley decided to go for broke, knowing it was the only chance for any of them to make it out of this mess alive. He rushed the vampire that he considered of more competence first, knowing that the second one would react impulsively by swinging his weapon towards the danger, instead of holding fast and threatening to shoot Sam.

Two shots rang out before Riley could reach the vampire he was going for and one of them connected with his lower left stomach. Riley had to use every ounce of willpower within him not to hesitate in the slightest at the pain as he hooked his arm under the shocked vampire's gun and twisted it out of his hands. Before another second had passed, Riley had sliced the machete through the air, beheading the shocked vampire, whom he'd recently considered a friend.

The second vampire developed the strategy that Riley had hoped he would not try. He had maneuvered himself away from Riley, his gun leveled at Sam's head. As Riley's angry eyes focused on the vampire, he nearly squirmed in discomfort as his eyes darted from Riley to Lilith.

Sam was aware that it was his own fragile human life that was costing them the game at this point. In proximity, Riley was now standing near Dean's original puddle of blood, a sight which made every bone in Sam's body want to attack the ten year old girl and pummel her until morning, although the thought of doing so was absurd. Lilith had approached Sam again, glaring with satisfaction.

Still concerned for Dean's condition, Sam chanced a quick glance towards his older brother. Blood was seeping into various places on his clothing and it took all Sam had to remain motionless instead of rushing to Dean's side. Dean coughed once and used his bound hands to laboriously maneuver his body until he was on his knees, hands still pressed to the ground, supporting his upper body weight.

"Bitch," Dean seethed as he exhaled, producing an alarming amount of spit and blood, somehow intensely bright red even in the dull light of the moon.

Lilith took a moment to turn away from Sam and Riley, regarding Dean's pathetic situation with childlike delight, "I'll get to you last, Dean. And you'll live the longest. It will be fun . . . for _me_." Lilith turned back towards Sam, a closed mouth grin covering her face.

Dean blinked several times, barely hearing her sickeningly innocent voice speak of such horror. He brought his head up forcibly, knowing that something was off. They had done something to her—had beaten her somehow—but now they were back to square one. Forcing himself to focus on the situation, Dean was able to make out the fact that he was to Lilith's back. There was only one vampire now and he had his gun trained on Sam. Riley stood approximately ten feet from Lilith, having just decapitated another of the vampires. Sam and the last standing vampire were about ten feet from both Riley and Lilith, creating three points of a triangle.

Dean's eyes fell to the dirt again as he fought the need to simply collapse into the dirt and welcome unconsciousness. It wouldn't be death—not right away. The wounds were not fatal, but they did need attention as soon as possible. If they got out of this soon, Sam could still patch him up enough to make due and avoid the hospital, although even that was a distant thought, as there wasn't much chance of leaving at all, let alone leaving in time to prevent police interaction.

Somehow knowing that it was imperative not to draw any attention his way, Dean stifled another aching cough as his eyes scanned his immediate surroundings. He was somehow pleased and equally exasperated to see that one of the vampires that Riley had slain only minutes before, had dropped his automatic rifle within Dean's mobile abilities. He would have to crawl to get it, but at least it was there. Lilith had underestimated him, thinking that she could simply turn her attention elsewhere—namely towards Dean's brother's demise. If it had been anything else, she probably wouldn't have had to concern herself with Dean in his condition, but as it was, she was asking for it. And Dean was gonna give it to her.

Sam glanced to his left, knowing that the vampire holding the gun was behind him and slightly to his left. As he did, he saw that Dean was now attempting to move towards the strange standoff. Sam nearly spoke, wanting to tell Dean to move away from the situation. If he could move at all, he had a chance to get away from the clearing before Lilith had time to discover the fact that he was mobile and kill him as well. However, Sam almost immediately realized that Dean was working towards a gun that had slid away from one of the vampires that Riley had murdered. Sam wasn't entirely sure what good bullets would do, but remained quiet. Saying anything concerning Dean's action would most likely get Dean killed.

Instead of allowing Lilith to notice Dean's movement, he spoke to ensure that her attention was still focused on him, "What'd we do?" He was honestly curious as to what Riley and he had accomplished, so he asked the first thing that came to his mind, knowing she would not answer truthfully.

Lilith cocked her head to the side and raised her left eyebrow, amused. The small girl she was possessing had an eerie way of appearing clueless and knowing at the same time, "Nothing," she finally answered, clearly bitter, "I allowed it."

Riley still stood ready to pounce with the machete, although Sam was unsure exactly what he would accomplish with a large, sharp blade when facing a demon—especially one as powerful as Lilith.

"I see you don't like me, Sam," Lilith was now pouting again, her blond eyebrows drawn down as her bottom lip once again puffed forward. "You won't share. You're a _bad_ boy. All I wanted was your power. But you're selfish."

Lilith nodded to the remaining vampire, giving him a silent order. A second later, Sam knew that the order was to place the muzzle of the automatic rifle at the base of his neck as he became immediately and completely motionless.

For the first time since Sam had met Lilith, her face became entirely and truly serious, "I don't know what else to do," she sighed in a regretful manner, before blinking slowly. As her eyes reopened, Sam was shocked to see that they were entirely white, "Goodbye, Sam."

The pressure of steel on his neck increased and Sam caught a glimpse of Riley's regretful face before a series of gunshots disrupted the nearly silent seclusion of the forest.

**Author's Note:** Next chapter will be up as soon as it's ready. Stick with me, guys! This story turned out a bit longer than I'd intended, but we're almost there! : )


	23. Chapter 23

**Author's Note: **Thanks so much for sticking with me, friends! Without further delay, here is the next chapter! Please let me know what you think! : )

_Previously:_

_Lilith nodded to the remaining vampire, giving him a silent order. A second later, Sam knew that the order was to place the muzzle of the automatic rifle at the base of his neck as he became immediately and completely motionless._

_For the first time since Sam had met Lilith, her face became entirely and truly serious, "I don't know what else to do," she sighed in a regretful manner, before blinking slowly. As her eyes reopened, Sam was shocked to see that they were entirely white, "Goodbye, Sam."_

_The pressure of steel on his neck increased and Sam caught a glimpse of Riley's regretful face before a series of gunshots disrupted the nearly silent seclusion of the forest._

**Chapter 23: Bullets and Smoke**

At first Dean had been moving slowly—_too_ slowly. Lilith was about to blow his baby brother away, and he wouldn't—couldn't—let that happen. He forced his bleeding body forward, expertly biting back at the pained noises that his body instinctively wanted to produce.

As Dean reached the automatic rifle as quietly as possible, he twisted his hands around the weapon, trying to maneuver it with a grace that had been lost in the binding of his hands. He positioned his hands to utilize the limited movement as he brought it into firing position only to discover that he would be entirely unable to shoot from his right shoulder, as his right bicep screamed in agony. The odds had just gotten a little worse, even though Dean was fairly sure the situation would have been dire had he been in his best physical condition.

_We're so fucked_, Dean thought to himself. Sighing, he switched the weapon to his left side. A small smirk somehow found his aching face. _What else is new?_

Concentrating with every ounce of focus his pummeled brain would allow, Dean took very careful aim. In order to accomplish what he was attempting, he would have to use the weapon with more accuracy than it was ever meant for—it was like using a hacksaw instead of a scalpel during surgery—but there was no choice. As the scene came into focus and Dean heard Lilith's words, he knew that Sam's life was about to end. After this realization, the situation became eerily clear as he focused in on his target and squeezed the trigger, concentrating all of his energy on resisting the kick of the weapon in order to finish the nearly impossible feat with precision.

Sam didn't feel it, but he figured that was normal. After all, he'd just been shot through the neck with an automatic weapon. Certainly, that would instantly end all his pain. For the briefest of moments, Sam felt what he never expected to—relief. He was done. God, he was finally done. The war might not be over, but at least it he was done fighting a losing battle. Aware that this was selfish, Sam pulled his thoughts away from this fact to find that his skin was still cold, his heart was still pounding at a ridiculous pace, and his neck still stung where the machete blade had rubbed it raw.

_Well, fuck. I'm alive._

Sam's eyes flew open and he was relieved to find that there was no longer the feeling of cold steel on the nape of his neck. He turned towards his brother, knowing that Dean had somehow been responsible for his survival.

Instantly finding Dean's kneeling figure, Sam was able to deduct exactly what had happened. He had used the machine-gun to decapitate the vampire that had been about to murder Sam. Unable to resist his curiosity despite the pressing situation, Sam glanced down towards the vampire, whose head had indeed been ripped from his body by a series of bullet wounds. Blood that seemed somehow too thick flowed slowly from both body parts, creating a large puddle that was extending towards Sam. Sam couldn't help but take a step away, towards Riley.

Lilith spun towards Dean angrily as she screamed in fury, her face nearly purple with rage. Dean dropped the gun, knowing it was completely useless against her, but heard his own voice leak a nearly whispered, "Fuck, yeah." He was sure it was visible on his beaten, bloody face—he was more pleased with himself than he'd ever been.

Dean blinked to hold his focus and Riley lunged towards Lilith while her attention was diverted.

Dean's drooping eyes suddenly sprung open as he realized in horror what Riley was planning to do and accomplished only one word in sheer panic, "NO!"

Riley was oblivious to Dean's order as he reached Lilith. At the very last moment, Lilith's head turned back towards him and her eyes regarded him with what Riley would have sworn was genuine fear, although he was certain Lilith would not have felt this way at such a moment. Despite the urge to hesitate, Riley swung the machete forward, flinching at the innocent blood that wasn't so much spilled as splattered throughout the clearing and all over his jacket and face.

The three of them remained motionless, shell-shocked with the meaning of Riley's actions. Although the decision may very well have saved them from Lilith for the moment, the fact remained that he'd just murdered a young girl.

Before any of them could consider this, they became aware that her body had not fallen, though her head was already approximately five feet away. The body shuttered uncertainly, as if it were contemplating something.

Then they all felt it—the feeling that every extra energy within miles of the clearing was drawing in—bundling itself within a ridiculously small area and nearly suffocating them with the intensity of it.

Riley couldn't help but voice what they were all feeling, "Christ! It hurts!"

It was true. Dean had experienced a hell of a lot of pain in the last hour or so, but this was different kind of hurt. It clutched deeper than he knew he was able to hurt. It was a burning blade deep within his stomach, pushing and pulling at the same time. The only thought that seemed accessible within his mind was that it needed to end—immediately.

Dean raised his bound hands in front of his face, yet didn't block the unnerving sight of the girl's headless body. Blood flowed from her neck, seeping into the collar of her orange pajamas, creating the sickening image of a volcano.

Sam took a step away from the strange site, using his right hand to steady himself by resting it on the nearest tree.

Riley stood motionless, still in his post-swing stance, waiting for what was to come with apprehension and readiness.

After what seemed like an infinite moment, the atmosphere erupted with a gush of air and demon smoke was suddenly erupting from the girl's neck with intensity that none of them would have imagined. Riley finally stumbled back, thrusting the machete in front of him, knowing of nothing else to do.

The smoke spewed into the night air as they looked on, though Riley slowly became aware that Dean had screamed his name. Dazedly, he pulled his eyes away from the strangest thing he'd ever seen in his life—and non-life—to see that Dean was in the process of throwing something in his direction. Despite the seriousness of the situation, Riley couldn't help but notice Dean had resembled a second grade girl, trying to throw something overhand because his wrists were tied together, forcing him to use both hands. If they made it through this, he was gonna give him hell for that. Instinctively catching the object that had impressively soared directly to him, Riley could hardly be bothered with what it was for the moment. Instead he returned his attention to Lilith's demon smoke.

Finally the last of Lilith's essence was entirely ripped from the girl's body and her joints buckled all at once. Her body fell lightly to the ground, barely creating any noise at all. Her arms were the last to splay about her headless body, lifeless palms up.

Finding the site extremely disturbing, Sam was hardly able to pull his eyes away from the girl's body in order to stare at the ominous bulk of smoke that was lingering in an angry manner, yet still managing to display the childlike playfulness that somehow defined her. The smoke bobbed menacingly for a moment before flickering in disappointment. Sam wasn't sure why he understood what each movement of the smoke meant, but he was sure that was something better left for later thought.

Finally the smoke pulled away from them, soaring over the trees like a November cloud on speed. The last feeling Sam experienced from Lilith was that she was ready. She was maybe even enjoying herself more now—he could feel that she had found this a very fun game and would attempt to play it again as soon as she was able. As the smoke flew away from the trio, Sam finally allowed himself to do what he'd been longing to do since he'd been shoved into the clearing—he ran to Dean.

Dean's breathing was steady, but pained. Sam skidded to his knees in front of Dean and attempted to grasp each side of Dean's face. Dean yanked his head away before settling his disbelieving eyes on Sam, "You know better," he breathed, flicking his eyes in the direction the smoke had traveled.

Sam found these orders very John-like, which kick started his hunting training into action, instead of his prominent instinct to take care of Dean. Sam produced his pocketknife and sawed through Dean's binds as fast as he could manage. As he pulled the rope away, he hissed in rage at the angry redness of Dean's wrists. Forcing himself to ignore the drops of blood already seaping from the most tender parts of Dean's wrists, Sam helped Dean to his feet. He carefully slung Dean's left arm over his shoulders, attempting not to hurt any part of Dean that was not already in pain, although at this point, Sam's choices were limited.

"Come on," Sam barked at Riley as he made his way to the edge of the clearing, "We gotta go—the house that she got that little girl—" Sam choked on his words, realizing that the people within the house were going to discover this ghastly scene of beheaded bodies when they searched for this small member of their family the next day. He gulped down the impairing sensitivity as he forced himself to continue, "She could possess one of them and come back."

Riley started to object, but Sam was already prepared, having considered the option Riley was about to present, "We might be able to. We might not. We have to go. It's too dangerous and he needs—" Sam's words were starting to feel desperate and rushed as he jerked his head towards Dean.

"Dammit, Sammy, it'll be alright, just get us back to my baby," Dean interrupted and sounded coherent enough, but his voice was weak. It was obvious that Dean thought it was louder than it actually was.

"Like _you're_ driving," Sam kept up the banter, but he tossed Riley a significant look, "Not now—not tonight."

Riley knew that Sam was referring to the possibility of them finishing Lilith here and now, but Sam couldn't risk the time it would take to attempt it. Dean needed attention—maybe even a hospital, though he doubted Dean would allow it. He also had no idea what exactly they had accomplished tonight and therefore had no idea whether or not they could manage it again, let alone effectively enough to somehow defeat her permanently.

Finally, Riley's face fell into resignation as he approached Dean's right side and gingerly lifted Dean's injured arm up and draped it over his shoulders. Dean gasped in pain, but ground his teeth down, feeling his jaw tighten so intensely that it gradually became his primary pain by the time they reached the car.

"Do you feel her?" Dean's question surprised Riley, seeing as how Dean was obviously fighting for consciousness, let alone reasonability.

Riley closed his eyes and focused momentarily, immediately feeling her presence, "Fuck—she's close. She musta went to that house. We have a couple minutes to get outta here."

"That's enough," Dean nodded as he started to reach for the driver's door.

"Whoa," Sam nearly laughed at Dean's stubbornness, "You're not drivin', man."

"Sammy—"

"Dean, I swear to God," Sam interrupted, the dangerous note in his voice enough to make Dean glance towards him.

After a moment, Dean felt his weight shifting and was unable to stop it. He had to sidestep awkwardly and thrust his hand forward and grip the door handle to prevent collapsing into the dirt.

Sam lunged forward, helping to support Dean's weight, aware that time was of the essence, but knowing that if he tried to force Dean to allow him to take control, it would only result in more delay.

"Yeah," Dean nodded now, as if it had been his decision all along, "I'm not going to drive. You drive."

**Author's Note:** Thanks readers!! I know I haven't been updating as often as I'd like to, but I'm always better about it when the shows aren't airing, so hopefully I'll get this finished up during the hiatus! Thanks so much for reading and please review! I know it's my own fault for not posting lately, but I miss that little alert in my inbox telling me someone has reviewed!! : ) Next chapter will be up soon!


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